


















































































































^ ^vV s ♦ ♦ ^y \j t * © 0 > s * # r 

"** ^ ** •***£'• ' <£* X/ /' 

_ -I///WSSWW’ - ^rv J fo 

W.M.'P‘ .-£ -©ISp^ 4* ■>. 

'o "’■'vfTs'’* /v <\ ’'■>.. 

i ^ 



^4* 


,* 'V 

S * A ' 



< V* 0* 


4 o 

O KJ? ^<V 




















% y 


A 


< 


* V 5 Xn 

* «? V- 

4 ^ 


% y 


A 


-l' 


* <* 


V • V J^ " „ ^ 0° ^ 0 " ° ^ 


' r y 

*■ ^ 0* 




<£-“. " O M O J 


O. * * , T * 


V * T • 


*u 


* ^ ^ * 

• ^ A v * J 

r vv 


V * Y ’ °* C\ 


\ V ,4> 


o ** A <b 

• °o J* / — - * 


o * A 


*/> 


» * 




o K 


> 0 « 


K 

a. ^ * 

v ° *«►/•..•• <» -* 

0 V *L!ri'* > V 


0 


o ^5 ^ 

* K. > <t 

* o * 

0 A V o * 


9 / n 


^ /, 




' 0 ->* 

<% ,<y o°."/v -o 

> v~ o * 

* %<> ^ •> 

4 - CT 


J-i 

‘ V <f- *, 


•C * *o\ \ * ,0 * 




^ A 1 

o V 




* o 

O' 

V> V>^ 

• 

• \0 ^ # * 4 O 

* rv j £~ * \4\\Vsy * N/ 

* r\J d* -> ^>^n # 

c\ ^9 V **.M% b> v o 


0 V 0 0 " ° * 


o. * *, •, • 


4* 


* 


•. Va* 


y <* °, 


*/7^* ' A <*■ -o.» 

% J'^ X 

•*■- A '/llg^.\ ' -fU- 0 <i 




*#•. 


O' o 0 "”- o 


U» 

V» 

« 


o ^ - « • 


<7 I *» 



.0' , S ’^'-v ^ 


o V 

\0 -rf- * 

^ <£\ 

♦ rv ^ 

^ * °« 0 0 ^> y 

v0 V V 

* ^ aV ♦rl\\^///J o 

1 v*v '* u/yJ, * 

• c,^> ^ j ° ° r iff; ^ v 

* *£y ^ ^ . 4 ^ 

<, "o'. * * jy & ^,,s s a <^ '° • * a° 

<f> 0^ c 0 " ° -» *^b • *-' * ^ o v o 0 " ° •» 

’ ^ - c '^ : '' °.. 7 W° «' 




^ ■* ^ o^ 

♦ 

^ o 


4 O 




4 O 

.v ^ 

































RECOLLECTIONS 

OF 

A TOUR MADE IN SCOTLAND 


A.D. 1803. 


Edinburgh: Printed by Thomas and Archibald Constable, 


LONDON 

CAMBRIDGE 


FOR 

EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS. 

. ..HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO. 

.MACMILLAN AND CO. 


GLASGOW 


JAMES MACLEHOSF.. 





RECOLLECTIONS 


OF A 

TOUR MADE IN SCOTLAND 

A.D. 1803 

I 1 I ./ 

BY DOROTHY WORDSWORTH. 


Edited by J. C. Shairp, LL.D. 

Principal of the United College of St. Salvator and 
St. Leonard, St. Andrews. 



EDINBURGH: 

EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS. 
1874. 

7T 


[All rights reserved .] 




















% 













































9 










CONTENTS 


Preface,. 

Jirst 


DAY PAGE 

1. Left Keswick — Grisdale 

— Mosedale — Hesket 
Newmarket — Caldbeck 
Falls, .... 1 

2. Rose Castle — Carlisle— 

Hatfield—Longtown, . 2 

3. Solway Moss—Enter Scot¬ 

land —Springfield—Gret¬ 
na Green—Annan—Dum¬ 
fries, .... 3 

4. Burns’s Grave, ... 5 

Ellisland—Vale of Nith, . 7 

Brownhill, .... 8 

Poem to Burns’s Sons, . 10 


§tconb 

7. Falls of the Clyde, . . 35 

Cart! and Crags, . . 40 

Fall of Stonebyres—Trough 

of the Clyde, . . .43 

Hamilton, . . . .44 

8. Hamilton House, . . 45 

Baroncleuch — Botliwell 

Castle, . . . .48 

Glasgow, . . . .52 

9. Bleaching ground (Glasgow 

Green), . . . .53 

Road to Dumbarton, . .55 

10. Rocks and Castle of Dum¬ 

barton, . . . .58 

ValeofLeven, . . .62 

Smollett’s Monument, . 63 

Loch Achray, . . .64 

Luss,.67 

11. Islands of Loch Lomond, . 71 


PAGE 

ix 


DAY 

5. Thornhill — Drumlanrig— 


River Nith, . 

s 

11 

Turnpike house, 

• 

12 

Sportsman, 

. 

13 

Vale of Menock, 

• 

14 

Wanlockhead, . 

• 

15 

Leadhills, . 


18 

Miners, . . 

• 

19 

Hopetoun mansion, . 

. 

20 

Hostess, 

• 

20 

6. Road to Crawfordjohn, 

. 

22 

Douglas Mill, 

• 

28 

Clyde—Lanerk, 

• 

31 

Boniton Linn, . 

• 

33 

Keek. 

Road to Tarbet,. 


75 

The Cobbler, 

. 

78 

Tarbet, 


79 

12. Left Tarbet for the Trossachs 

, 81 

Rob Roy’s Caves, 

• 

82 

Inversneyde Ferryhouse 


and Waterfall, 

. 

83 

Singular building, 

. 

84 

Loch Ketterine, . 

. 

86 

Glengyle, . 

. 

88 

Mr. Macfarlane’s, 

. 

89 

13. Breakfast at Glengyle, 

. 

91 

Lairds of Glengyle — 

Rob 


Roy, 

. 

92 

Burying-ground, 

. 

94 

Ferryman’s Hut, 

. 

95 

Trossachs, . 

i 

96 

Loch Achray, 

. 

101 

Return to Ferryman’s Hut, 

102 








VI 


CONTENTS. 


^hiri) 

DAY PAGE 

14. Left Loch Ketterine, . . 106 

Garrison House—Highland 
Girls, .... 107 
Ferryhouse at Inversneyde, 108 
Poem to the Highland Girl, 113 


Return to Tarbet, . .115 

15. Coleridge resolves to go 

home, .... 117 
Arrochar—Loch Long, . 118 

Parted with Coleridge, . 119 

Glen Croe—The Cobbler, . 121 
Glen Kinglas—Cairndow, . 123 

16. Road to Inverary, . . 124 

Inverary, .... 126 

17. Vale of Arey, . . .129 

Loch Awe, . . . 134 

Kilchurn Castle, . . 138 

Dalmally, . . . .139 

18. Loch Awe, . . . 141 

Taynuilt, . . . .143 


Jfrrurth 

21. Road to Inveroran, . . 180 

Inveroran—Public-house, . 182 


Road to Tyndrum, . . 183 

Tyndrum, .... 184 
Loch Dochart, . . . 185 

22. Killin, . . . .186 

LochTay, .... 188 
Ken more, . . . .189 


23. Lord Breadalbane’s grounds, 193 
Vale of Tay—Aberfeldy— 

Falls of Moness, . . 194 

River Tummel — Vale of 
Tummel, . . .196 

Fascally—Blair, . . 197 

24. Duke of Athole’s garden’s, 198 
Falls of Bruar—Mountain- 

road to Loch Tummel, . 201 
Loch Tummel, . . . 203 


mnk. 


DAY 

PAGE 

Bunawe—Loch Etive, 

144 

Tinkers, . . . . 

149 

19. Road by Loch Etive down¬ 


wards, .... 

152 

Dunstaffnage Castle, . 

153 

Loch Crerar, 

156 

Strath of Appin — Portna- 


croish, . . . . 

158 

Islands of Loch Linnhe, . 

159 

Morven, .... 

160 

Lord Tweeddale, 

161 

Strath of Duror, 

163 

Ballachulish, 

164 


20. Road to Glen Coe up Loch 


Leven, . 

. 165 

Blacksmith’s house, . 

. 166 

Glen Coe, . 

. 172 

Whisky hovel, . 

. 174 

King’s House, . 

. 175 


Mttk. 

Rivers Tummel and Garry, 204 
Fascally, .... 205 

25. Pass of Killicrankie—Son¬ 

net, .... 207 
Fall of Tummel, . . 208 

Dunkeld, .... 209 
Fall of the Bran, . .210 

26. Duke of Athol’s gardens, 211 

Glen of the Bran—Rum¬ 
bling Brig, . . .212 

Narrow Glen—Poem, . 213 

Crieff, . . . .215 

27. Strath Erne, . . . 215 

Lord Melville’s house— 

Loch Erne . . . 216 

Strath Eyre—Loch Lubnaig, 217 
Bruce the Traveller—Pass 
of Leny—Callander, . 218 







CONTENTS. 


vii 


Jifth 


DAY page 

28. Road to the Trossachs— 

Loch Vennachar, . .219 

Loch Achray—Trossachs— 
Road up Loch Ketterine, 220 
Poem : ‘ Stepping West¬ 

ward,’ .... 221 
Boatman’s hut, . . 222 

29. Road to Loch Lomond, . 223 

Ferryhouse at Inversneyde, 223 
Walk up Loch Lomond, . 224 
Glenfalloch, . . . 226 

Glengyle, . . . .228 

Rob Roy’s Grave—Poem, . 229 
Boatman’s Hut,. . . 233 


(Sixth 

35. Peebles— Neidpath Castle— 


Sonnet, . . . 248 

Tweed, . . . .249 

Clovenford, . . . 251 

Poem on Yarrow, . . 252 

36. Melfose—Melrose Abbey, . 255 

37. Dryburgh, . . . 257 

Jedburgh—Old Woman, . 260 
Poem, .... 262 


38. Yale of Jed—Ferniehurst, 265 

APPENDIX, . 

NOTES, 

ITINERARY, 


Wtek. 


DAY PAGE 

30. Mountain - road to Loch 

Voil, . . . .235 

Poem, ‘ The Solitary 
Reaper,’ . . . 237 - 

Strath Eyer, . . . 239 

31. Loch Lubnaig, . . . 240 

Callander — Stirling — Fal¬ 
kirk, . . . .241 

32. Linlithgow—Road to Edin¬ 

burgh, . . . .242 

33. Edinburgh, . . . 243 

Roslin, .... 245 

34. Roslin—Hawthornden, . 246 

Road to Peebles, . . 247 


«cek. 

39. Jedburgh—The Assizes, . 267 


Yale of Teviot, . . . 268 

Hawick, . . . .270 

40. Vale of Teviot — Branx- 

holm, .... 270 
Moss Paul, . . . 271 

Langholm,.... 272 

41. Road to Longtown, . . 272 

River Esk—Carlisle, . . 273 

42. Arrival at home, . .274 


277 

309 

317 




POEMS ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE JOURNAL. 


1803. 

PAGE 

To the Sons of Burns, after visiting the Grave of their Father, . 277 

At the Grave of Burns, 1803, . . . . .278 

Thoughts suggested the day following, on the Banks of Nith, near 

the Poet’s Residence, ..... 281 

To a Highland Girl,.113 

Address to Kilchurn Castle, upon Loch Awe, . . . 285 

Sonnet in the Pass of Killicrankie, .... 207 

Glen Almain; or The Narrow Glen, .... 213 

The Solitary Reaper, ...... 237 

Stepping Westward, ...... 221 

Rob Roy’s Grave, ....... 229 

Sonnet composed at Neidpath Castle, .... 248 

Yarrow Unvisited, . . . . I . . 252 

The Matron of Jedborough and her Husband, . . . 262 

Fly, some kind Spirit, fly to Grasmere Vale ! . . 274 

The Blind Highland Boy, ...... 286 

1814. 

The Brownie’s Cell, ....... 298 

Cora Linn, in sight of Wallace’s Tower, .... 283 

Effusion, in the Pleasure-ground on the banks of the Bran, near 

Dunkeld, ....... 294 

Yarrow Visited, ....... 301 

1831. 

Yarrow Re-visited, ....... 304 

On the Departure of Sir Walter Scott from Abbotsford, for 

Naples,.. 

The Trossachs, ....... 308 





PREFACE. 


Those who have long known the poetry of Wordsworth 
will be no strangers to the existence of this Journal of his 
sister, which is now for the first time published entire. 
They will have by heart those few wonderful sen¬ 
tences from it which here and there stand at the head 
of the Poet’s ‘ Memorials of a Tour in Scotland in 1803.’ 
Especially they will remember that ‘Extract from the 
Journal of my Companion’ which preludes the ‘ Address to 
Kilchurn Castle upon Loch Awe,’ and they may sometimes 
have asked themselves whether the prose of the sister is not 
as truly poetic and as memorable as her brother’s verse. 
If they have read the Memoirs of the Poet published by his 
nephew the Bishop of Lincoln, they will have found there 
fuller extracts from the Journal, which quite maintain 
the impression made by the first brief sentences. All true 
Wordsworthians then will welcome, I believe, .the present 
publication. They will find in it not only new and 
illustrative light on those Scottish poems which they have 
so long known, but a faithful commentary on the character 
of the poet, his mode of life, and the manner of his poetry. 
Those who from close study of Wordsworth’s poetry know 
both the poet and his sister, and what they were to each 

b 


X 


PREFACE. 


other, will need nothing more than the Journal itself. If 
it were likely to fall only into their hands, it might be left 
without one word of comment or illustration. But as it 
may reach some who have never read Wordsworth, and 
others who having read do not relish him, for the in¬ 
formation of these something more must be said. The 
Journal now published does not borrow all its worth from 
its bearing on the great poet. It has merit and value of its 
own, which may commend it to some who have no heart 
for Wordsworth’s poetry. For the writer of it was in herself 
no common woman, and might have secured for herself an 
independent reputation, had she not chosen rather that 
other part, to forget and merge herself entirely in the 
work and reputation of her brother. 

Dorothy Wordsworth was the only sister of the 
poet, a year and a half younger, having been born on 
Christmas Day 1771. The five children who composed 
the family, four sons and one daughter, lost their mother in 
1778, when William was eight, and Dorothy six years old. 
The father died five years afterwards, at the close of 1783, 
and the family home at Cockermouth was broken up and 
the children scattered. Before his father’s death, William, in 
his ninth year, had gone with his elder brother to school at 
Hawkshead, by the lake of Esthwaite, and after the father 
died Dorothy was brought up by a cousin on her mother’s 
side, Miss Threlkeld, afterwards Mrs. Bawson, who lived in 
Halifax. During the eight years which Wordsworth spent 


PREFACE, 


xi 


at school, or, at any rate, from the time of his father’s death, 
he and his sister seem seldom, if ever, to have met. 

The first college vacation in the summer of 1788 brought 
him back to his old school in the vale of Esthwaite, and 
either this or the next of his undergraduate summers 
restored him to the society of his sister at Penrith. This 
meeting is thus described in the 4 Prelude : ’— 

‘ In summer, making quest for works of art, 

Or scenes renowned for beauty, I explored 
That streamlet whose blue current works its way 
Between romantic Dovedale’s spiry rocks ; 

Pried into Yorkshire dales, or hidden tracts 
Of my own native region, and was blest ^ 

Between these sundry wanderings with a joy 

Above all joys, that seemed another morn 

Risen on mid-noon ; blest with the presence, Friend ! 

Of that sole sister, her who hath been long 
Dear to thee also, thy true friend and mine, 

Now, after separation desolate 

Restored to me—such absence that she seemed 

A gift then first bestowed.’ 

They then together wandered by the banks of Emont, 
among the woods of Lowther, and ‘climbing the Border 
Beacon looked wistfully towards the dim regions of Scot¬ 
land.’ Then and there too Wordsworth first met that 
young kinswoman who was his wife to be. 

During the following summers the Poet was busy with 
walking tours in Switzerland and North Italy, his resid¬ 
ence in France, his absorption in the French Revolution, 
which kept him some years longer apart from his sister. 


Xll 


PREFACE. 


During those years Miss Wordsworth lived much with her 
uncle Dr. Cookson, who was a canon of Windsor and a 
favourite with the Court, and there met with people of 
more learning and refinement, but not of greater worth, 
than those she had left in her northern home. 

In the beginning of 1794 Wordsworth, returned from his 
wanderings, came to visit his sister at Halifax, his head 
still in a whirl with revolutionary fervours. He was 
wandering about among his friends with no certain dwelling- 
place, no fixed plan of life, his practical purposes and his 
opinions, political, philosophical, and religious, all alike at 
sea. But whatever else might remain unsettled, the bread- 
and-butter question, as Coleridge calls it, could not. The 
thought of orders, for which his friends intended him, had 
been abandoned; law he abominated ; writing for the news¬ 
paper press seemed the only resource. In this seething 
state of mind he sought once more his sister’s calming 
society, and the two travelled together on foot from Kendal 
to Grasmere, from Grasmere to Keswick, ‘ through the most 
delightful country that was ever seen.’ 

Towards the close of this year (1794) Wordsworth would 
probably have gone to London to take up the trade of a 
writer for the newspapers. From this however he was 
held back for a time by the duty of nursing his friend 
Kaisley Calvert, who lay dying at Penrith. Early in 
1795 the young man died, leaving to his friend, the young 
Poet, a legacy of £900. The world did not then hold 
Wordsworth for a poet, and had received with coldness his 


PREFACE. 


xm 


first attempt , 1 Descriptive Sketches and an Evening Walk,’ 
published two years before. But the dying youth had 
seen farther than the world, and felt convinced that his 
friend, if he had leisure given him to put forth his powers, 
would do something which would make the world his 
debtor. With this view he bequeathed him the small sum 
above named. And seldom has such a bequest borne 
ampler fruit. ‘ Upon the interest of the £900, £400 being 
laid out in annuity, with £200 deducted from the principal, 
and £100 a legacy to my sister, and £100 more which “ The 
Lyrical Ballads ” have brought me, my sister and I have 
contrived to live seven years, nearly eight/ So wrote 
Wordsworth in 1805 to his friend Sir George Beau¬ 
mont. Thus at this juncture of the Poet’s fate, when to 
onlookers he must have seemed both outwardly and in¬ 
wardly well-nigh bankrupt, Baisley Calvert’s bequest came 
to supply his material needs, and to his inward needs his 
sister became the best earthly minister. For his mind was 
ill at ease. The high hopes awakened in him by the French 
Revolution had been dashed, and his spirit, darkened and 
depressed, was on the verge of despair. He might have be¬ 
come such a man as he has pictured in the character of 
‘ The Solitary.’ But a good Providence brought his sister 
to his side and saved him. She discerned his real need and 
divined the remedy. By her cheerful society, fine tact, and 
vivid love for nature she turned him, depressed and be¬ 
wildered, alike from the abstract speculations and the con¬ 
temporary politics in which he had got immersed, and 


XIV 


PREFACE. 


directed his thoughts towards truth of poetry, and the face 
of nature, and the healing that for him lay in these. 

* Then it was 
That the beloved sister in whose sight 
Those days were passed— 

Maintained for me a saving intercourse 

With my true self ; for though bedimmed and changed 

Much, as it seemed, I was no further changed 

Than as a clouded or a waning moon : 

She whispered still that brightness would return, 

She, in the midst of all, preserved me still 
A Poet, made me seek beneath that name, 

And that alone, my office upon earth.’ 

By intercourse with her and wanderings together in 
delightful places of his native country, he was gradually 
led back 


‘ To those sweet counsels between head and heart 
Whence genuine knowledge grew.’ 

The brother and sister, having thus cast in their lots 
together, settled at Racedown Lodge in Dorsetshire in the 
autumn of 1795. They had there a pleasant house, with a 
good garden, and around them charming walks and a 
delightful country looking out on the distant sea. The 
place was very retired, with little or no society, and the post 
only once a week. But of employment there was no lack. 
The brother now settled steadily to poetic work; the sister 
engaged in household duties and reading, and then when 
work was over, there were endless walks and wanderings. 
Long years afterwards Miss Wordsworth spoke of Racedown 


PREFACE. 


xv 


as the place she looked back to with most affection. ‘ It 
was/ she said, ‘ the first home I had.’ 

The poems which Wordsworth there composed were not 

among his best,—‘ The Borderers/ ‘ Guilt or Sorrow/ 

and others. He was yet only groping to find his true 

subjects and his own proper manner. But there was one 

piece there composed which will stand comparison with 

any tale he ever wrote. It was ‘The Ruined Cottage/ 

which, under the title of the ‘Story of Margaret/ he 

afterwards incorporated in the first Book of ‘ The 

Excursion.’ It was when they had been nearly two years 

at Racedown that they received a guest who was destined 

to exercise more influence on the self-contained Wordsworth 

than any other man ever did. This was S. T. Coleridge. 

One can imagine how he would talk, interrupted only by 

their mutually reading aloud their respective Tragedies, both 

of which are now well-nigh forgotten, and by Wordsworth 

reading his ‘Ruined Cottage/ which is not forgotten. 

Miss Wordsworth describes S. T. C., as he then was, in 

words that are well known. And he describes her thus, 
i 

in words less known,—‘ She is a woman indeed, in mind I 
mean, and in heart; for her person is such that if you 
expected to see a pretty woman, you would think her 
ordinary; if you expected to see an ordinary woman you 
would think her pretty, but her manners are simple, 
ardent, impressive. In every motion her innocent soul 
out-beams so brightly, that who saw her would say, “ Guilt 
was a thing impossible with her.” Her information various, 


XVI 


PREFACE. 


her eye watchful in minutest observation of nature, and 
her taste a perfect electrometer.’ 

The result of this meeting of the two poets was that 
the Wordsworths shifted their abode from Racedown to 
Alfoxden, near Nether Stowey, in Somersetshire, to be 
near Coleridge. Alfoxden was a large furnished mansion, 
which the brother and sister had to themselves. ‘ We are 
three miles from Stowey,’ the then abode of Coleridge, 
writes the sister, ‘ and two miles from the sea. Wherever 
we turn we have woods, smooth downs, and valleys, with 
small brooks running down them, through green meadows, 
hardly ever intersected with hedgerows, but scattered over 
with trees. The hills that cradle these valleys are either 
covered with fern and bilberries, or oak woods, which 
are cut for charcoal. Walks extend for miles over the 
hill-tops, the great beauty of which is their wild sim¬ 
plicity—they are perfectly smooth, without rocks.’ It 
was in this neighbourhood, as the two poets loitered in the 
silvan combs or walked along the smooth Quantock hill¬ 
tops, looking seaward, with the ‘ sole sister,’ the companion 
of their walks, that they struck each from the other his finest 
tones. It was with both of them the heyday of poetic 
creation. In these walks it was that Coleridge, with slight 
hints from Wordsworth, first chaunted the vision of the 
Ancient Mariner, and then alone, £ The rueful woes of Lady 
Christabel.’ This, too, was the birthday of some of the 
finest of the Lyrical Ballads, of ‘ We are Seven,’ ‘ Simon 
Lee,’ ‘ Expostulation and Reply,’ and ‘ The Tables Turned,’ 


PREFACE. 


xvn 


‘ It is the first mild day in March,’ and ‘ I heard a thousand 
blended notes.’ Coleridge never knew again such a season 
of poetic creation, and Wordsworth’s tardier, if stronger, 
nature, received from contact with Coleridge that quicken¬ 
ing impulse which it needed, and which it retained during 
all its most creative years. 

But if Coleridge, with his occasional intercourse and 
wonderful talk, did much for Wordsworth, his sister, by 
her continual companionship, did far more. After the 
great revulsion from the excesses of the French Revolution, 
she was with him a continually sanative influence. That 
whole period, which ranged from 1795 till his settling at 
Grasmere at the opening of the next century, and of which 
the residence at Racedown and Alfoxden formed a large 
part, was the healing time of his spirit. And in that heal¬ 
ing time she was the chief human minister. Somewhere 

✓ 

in the ‘ Prelude ’ he tells that in early youth there was a too 
great sternness of spirit about him, a high but too severe 
moral ideal by which he judged men and things, insensible 
to gentler and humbler influences. He compares his soul 
to a high, bare craig, without any crannies in which 
flowers may lurk, untouched by the mellowing influences 
of sun and shower. His sister came with her softening 
influence, and sowed in it the needed flowers, and touched 
it with mellowing colours. 

‘ She gave me eyes, she gave me ears, 

And humble cares and delicate fears, 

A heart, the fountain of sweet tears 
And love, and thought and joy.’ 


XV111 


PREFACE. 


Elsewhere in the ‘ Prelude ’ he describes how at one time 
his soul had got too much under the dominion of the eye, 
so that he kept comparing scene with scene, instead of 
enjoying each for itself—craving new forms, novelties of 
colour or proportion, and insensible to the spirit of each 
place and the affections which each awakens. In contrast 
with this temporary mood of his own he turns to one of 
another temper :— 

‘ I knew a maid, 

A young enthusiast who escaped these bonds, 

Her eye was not the mistress of her heart, 

She welcomed what was given, and craved no more ; 
Whate’er the scene presented to her view, 

That was the best, to that she was attuned 
By her benign simplicity of life. 

Birds in the bower, and lambs in the green field, 

Could they have known her, would have loved ; methought 
Her very presence such a sweetness breathed, 

That flowers, and trees, and even the silent hills, 

And everything she looked on, should have had 
An intimation how she bore herself 
Towards them and to all creatures. God delights 
In such a being ; for her common thoughts 
Are piety, her. life is gratitude.’ 

But it was not his sister the Poet speaks of here, but of 
his first meeting with her who afterwards became his wife. 

The results of the residence at Racedown, but especially 
at Alfoxden, appeared in the shape of the first volume of 
the ‘ Lyrical Ballads/ which were published in the autumn 
of 1798 by Mr. Cottle at Bristol. This small volume 
opens with Coleridge’s ‘Rime of the Ancyent Marinere,’ 
and is followed by Wordsworth’s short but exquisite poems 


PREFACE. 


xix 


of the Alfoxden time, and is closed by the well-known 
lines on Tintern Abbey. Wordsworth reaches about the 
highest pitch of his inspiration in this latter poem, which 
contains more rememberable lines than any other of his, 
of equal length, save perhaps the Immortality Ode. It 
was the result of a ramble of four or five days made by 
him and his sister from Alfoxden in July 1798, and was 
composed under circumstances ‘most pleasant,’ he says, 
‘ for me to remember.’ He began it upon leaving Tintern, 
after crossing the Wye, and concluded it as he was entering 
Bristol in the evening. 

Every one will recollect how, after its high reflections 
he turns at the close to her, ‘his dearest Friend,’ ‘his 
dear, dear Friend,’ and speaks of his delight to have her by 
- his side, and of the former pleasures which he read in ‘ the 
shooting lights of her wild eyes,’ and then the almost 
prophetic words with which he forebodes, too surely, 
that time when ‘ solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief should 
be her portion.’ 

That September (1798) saw the break-up of the brief, 
bright companionship near Nether Stowey. Coleridge went 
with Wordsworth and his sister to Germany, but soon 
parted from them and passed on alone to Gottingen, 
there to study German, and lose himself in the labyrinth 
of German metaphysics. Wordsworth and Dorothy re¬ 
mained at Goslar, and, making no acquaintances, spent 
the winter—said to have been the coldest of the century 
—by the German stoves, Wordsworth writing more 


XX 


PREFACE . 


lyrical poems in the same vein which had been opened 
so happily at Alfoxden. There is in these poems no 
tincture of their German surroundings, they deal entirely 
with those which they had left on English ground. Early 
in spring they returned to England, to spend the summer 
with their friends the Hutchinsons at Sockburn-upon-Tees. 
There Dorothy remained, while in September Wordsworth 
made with Coleridge the walking tour through the lakes of 
Westmoreland and Cumberland, which issued in his choice 
of a home at Grasmere for himself and his sister. 

At the close of the year Wordsworth and his Sister set 
off and walked, driven forward by the cold, frosty winds 
blowing from behind, from Wensleydale over Sedbergh’s 
naked heights and the high range that divides the Yorkshire 
dales from the lake country. On the shortest day of the 
year (St. Thomas’s Day) they reached the small two-story 
cottage at the Townend of Grasmere, which, for the next 
eight years, was to be the poet’s home, immortalized by 
the work he did in it. That cottage has behind it a small 
orchard-plot or garden ground shelving upwards toward the 
woody mountains above, and in front it looks across the 
peaceful lake with its one green island, to the steeps 
of Silver-how on the farther side. Westward it looks 
on Helm Craig, and up the long folds of Easedale 
towards the range that divides Easedale from Borrow- 
dale. In this cottage they two lived on their income 
of a hundred pounds a year, Dorothy doing all the 
household work, for they had then, it has been said, 


PREFACE. 


xxi 


no servant. Besides this, she had time to write out 
all his poems—for Wordsworth himself could never hear 
the strain of transcribing—to read aloud to him of an 
afternoon or evening—at one such reading by her of 
Milton’s Sonnets it was that his soul took fire and rolled 
off his first sonnets—and to accompany him on his endless 
walks. Nor these alone—her eye and imagination fed 
him, not only with subjects for his poetry, hut even with 
images and thoughts. What we are told of the poem of 
the 1 Beggars ’ might be said of I know not how many more. 

‘ The sister’s eye was ever on the watch to provide for the 
poet’s pen.’ He had a most observant eye, and she also 
for him; and his poems are sometimes little more than 
poetic versions of her descriptions of the objects which 
she had seen; and which he treated as seen by himself. 
Look at the poem on the ‘ Daffodils ’ and compare with it 
these words taken from the sister’s Journal. ‘When we 
were in the woods below Gowbarrow Park, we saw a few 
daffodils close by the water side. As we went along there 
were more and yet more ; and at last, under the boughs of 
the trees, we saw there were a long belt of them along the 
shore. I never saw daffodils so beautiful. They grew 
among the mossy stones about them. Some rested their 
heads on the stones, as on a pillow; the rest tossed, and 
reeled, and danced, and seemed as if they verily laughed 
with the wind, they looked so gay and glancing.’ It may 
also be noted that the Poet’s future wife contributed to 
this poem these two best lines— 


XXII 


PREFACE. 


‘They flash upon that inward eye, 

Which is the bliss of solitude.’ 

Or take another description from Miss Wordsworth’s 
Journal of a birch-tree, ‘ the lady of the woods/ which her 
brother has not versified :—‘ As we were going along we 
were stopped at once, at the distance, perhaps, of fifty 
yards from our favourite birch-tree : it was yielding to the 
gust of the wind, with all its tender twigs; the sun shone 
upon it, and it glanced in the wind like a flying sunshiny 
shower. It was a tree in shape, with stem and branches, 
but it was like a spirit of water.’ 

The life which the Poet and his sister lived during the 
eight years at the Townend of Grasmere stands out with 
a marked individuality which it is delightful ever so 
often to recur to. It was as unlike the lives of most 
literary or other men, as the most original of his poems are 
unlike the ordinary run of even good poetry. Their 
outward life was exactly like that of the dalesmen or 
1 statesmen’—for so the native yeomen proprietors are 
called—with whom they lived on the most friendly 
footing, and among whom they found their chief society. 
Outwardly their life was so, but inwardly it was cheered 
by imaginative visitings to which these were strangers. 
Sheltered as they then were from the agitations of the 
world, the severe frugality of the life they led ministered 
in more than one way to feed that poetry which in¬ 
troduced a new element into English thought. It kept 
the mind cool, and the eye clear, to feel once more that 


PREFACE. 


xxiii 


kinship between the outward world and the soul of man, 
to perceive that impassioned expression in the countenance 
of all nature, which, if felt by primeval men, ages 
of cultivation have long forgotten. It also made them 
wise to practise the same frugality in emotional enjoyment 
which they exercised in household economy. It has been 
well noted* that this is one of Wordsworth’s chief charac¬ 
teristics. It is the temptation of the poetic temperament 
to be prodigal of passion, to demand a life always strung 
to the highest pitch of emotional excitement, to be never 
content unless when passing from fervour to fervour. No 
life can long endure this strain. This is specially seen 
in such poets as Byron and Shelley, who speedily fell 
from the heights of passion to the depths of languor and 
despondency. The same quick using up of the power 
of enjoyment produces the too common product of the 
bias6, man and the cynic. Wordsworth early perceived 
that all, even the richest, natures have but a very limited 
capacity of uninterrupted enjoyment, and that nothing is 
easier than to exhaust this capacity. Hence he set himself 
to husband it, to draw upon it sparingly, to employ it only 
on the purest, most natural, and most enduring objects, and 
not to speedily dismiss or throw them by and demand 
more, but to detain them till they had yielded him their 
utmost. From this in part it came that the commonest 
sights of earth and sky—a fine spring day, a sunset, even 
a chance traveller met on a moor, any ordinary sorrow of 
* See Essays of R. H. Hutton, Esq., vol. ii. 


xxiv PREFA CE. 

man’s life—yielded to him an amount of imaginative in¬ 
terest inconceivable to more mundane spirits. The simple 
healthiness and strict frugality of his household life 
suited well, and must have greatly assisted that wholesome 
frugality of emotion which he exercised. 

During those seven or eight Grasmere years, the spring 
of poetry which burst forth at Alfoxden, and produced the 
first volume of ‘ Lyrical Ballads,’ flowed steadily on and 
found expression in other poems of like quality and spirit,— 

‘ Hartleap Well,’ ‘The Brothers,’ ‘Michael,’ which, with 
others of the same order, written in Germany, appeared in 
the second volume of ‘ Lyrical Ballads.’ And after these 
two volumes had gone forth, Grasmere still gave more of 
the same high order,—‘ The Daffodils,’ ‘The Leech-Gatherer,’ 
and above all the ‘ Ode on Immortality.’ It saw too the 
conclusion of the ‘ Prelude,’ and the beginning of the 
‘ Excursion.’ So that it may be said that those Grasmere 
years, from 1800 to 1807, mark the period when Words¬ 
worth’s genius was in its zenith. During all this time, 
sister Dorothy was by his side, ministering to him, equally 
in body and in mind—doing the part of household servant, 
and not less that of prompter and inspirer of his highest 
songs. 

But this life of theirs, retired and uneventful as it seems, 
was not without its own incidents. Such was the home¬ 
coming of their younger sailor-brother John, who, in the 
first year of their residence at Grasmere— 

‘ Under their cottage roof, had gladly come 
From the wild sea a cherished visitant.’ 


PREFACE. 


XXV 


He was, wliat his brother calls him, * a silent poet,’ and 
had the heart and sense to feel the sterling quality of his 
brother’s poems, and to foretell with perfect confidence 
their ultimate acceptance, at the time when the critic wits 
who ruled the hour treated them with contempt. The 
two brothers were congenial spirits, and William’s poetry 
has many affecting allusions to his brother John, whose 
intention it was, when his last voyage was over, to settle 
in ‘ Grasmere’s happy vale,’ and to devote the surplus of his 
fortune to his brother’s use. On his last voyage he sailed 
as captain of the ‘Earl of Abergavenny’ East-Indiaman, 
at the opening of February 1805 ; and on the 5th of that 
month, the ill-fated ship struck on the Shambles of the Bill 
of Portland, and the captain and most of the crew went 
down with her. To the brother and sister this became a 
permanent household sorrow. But in time they found 
comfort in that thought with which the Poet closes a re¬ 
markable letter on his brother’s loss,—‘ So good must be 
better; so high must be destined to be higher.’ 

Another lesser incident was a short tour to the Continent, 
in which, as the brother and sister crossed Westminster 
Bridge, outside the Dover coach, both witnessed that sun¬ 
rise which remains fixed for ever in the famous sonnet. 
Another incident, and more important, was Wordsworth’s 
marriage in October 1802, when he brought home his 
young wife, Mary Hutchinson, his sister’s long-time friend, 
to their cottage at Townend. This is she whom he has 
sung in the lines—‘She was a phantom of delight;’ of 

c 


XXVI 


PREFACE. 


whom he said in plain prose, ‘ She has a sweetness all 
but angelic, simplicity the most entire, womanly self- 
respect and purity of heart speaking through all her looks, 
acts, and movements.’ The advent of Mrs. Wordsworth 
brought no change to Dorothy. She still continued to fill 
to her brother and his wife the same place which she had 
filled when her brother was alone, sharing in all the house¬ 
hold duties and family interests, and still accompanying 
him in his rambles when Mrs. Wordsworth was detained 
at home. The year after the marriage, that is, in the 
fourth year of the Grasmere residence, after the first son 
was born, the brother and sister, accompanied by Coleridge, 
set out on that tour the Journal of which is here published. 
Portions of it have already appeared in the ‘Memoirs’ of 
Wordsworth, but it is now for the first time given in full, 
just as it came from the pen of Miss Wordsworth, seventy 
years ago. As I shall have to speak of it again, I may now 
pass on and note the few facts that still remain to be told 
in illustration of the writer’s character. 

In the years which followed the tour in Scotland, other 
children were added to Wordsworth’s family, till the small 
cottage at the Townend could no longer accommodate the 
household. The second child was the poet’s only daughter, 
whom after his sister he called Dorothy, generally known 
as Dora, for, as he tells Lady Beaumont, he could not find 
it in his heart to call her by another name. This second 
Dora occupies in Wordsworth’s later poetry the same 
place which the first Dorothy held in his earlier. Aunt 


PREFACE. 


xxvii 


Dorothy’s love, as it expanded to take in each new 
comer, did not lose any of its intensity towards her 
brother. While the uneasiness which the act of writing 
had always occasioned him was not diminished, weakness 
of eyesight increased. Then she had to write for him, she 
read to him, she walked with him as of old, besides sharing 
in all household cares. In November 1806, Wordsworth 
removed with his family to Coleorton, in Leicestershire, to 
spend the winter there in a house of Sir George Beaumont’s; 
‘ Our own cottage,’ he writes, ‘ being far too small for our 
family to winter in, though we manage well enough in it 
during the summer.’ In the spring of 1807, Wordsworth 
and his wife visited London. Dorothy, who was left with 
the children, wrote the poem called ‘ The Mother’s Return,’ 
as a welcome to Mrs. Wordsworth when she came back. 
This with two other poems, written by her for the children, 
one on ‘ The Wind,’ the other called ‘ The Cottager to her 
Infant,’ afterwards appeared in an edition of her brother’s 
poems. 

This seems the proper place to give the account of Miss 
Wordsworth, as she appeared to De Quincey, when in 1807 
he first made the acquaintance of Wordsworth, just before 
the Poet and his family quitted their old home in the 
cottage at Grasmere Townend. After speaking of Mrs. 
Wordsworth, he continues :— 

4 Immediately behind her moved a lady, shorter, slighter, 
and perhaps, in all other respects, as different from her in 
personal characteristics as could have been wished for the 


XXV111 


PREFACE. 


most effective contrast. “ Her face was of Egyptian 
brown;” rarely, in a woman of English birth, had I seen a 
more determinate gipsy tan. Her eyes were not soft as 
Mrs. Wordsworth’s, nor were they fierce or bold; but they 
were wild and startling, and hurried in their motion. 
Her manner was warm, and even ardent; her sensibility 
seemed constitutionally deep; and some subtle fire of 
impassioned intellect apparently burned within her, which 
—being alternately pushed forward into a conspicuous 
expression by the irresistible instincts of her temperament, 
and then immediately checked in obedience to the decorum 
of her sex and age and her maidenly condition—gave to 
her whole demeanour, and to her conversation, an air of 
embarrassment, and even of self-conflict, that was almost 
distressing to witness. Even her very utterance and 
enunciation often suffered in point of clearness and steadi¬ 
ness, from the agitation of her excessive organic sensibility. 
At times the self-counteraction and self-baffling of her 
feelings caused her even to stammer. But the greatest 
deductions from Miss Wordsworth’s attractions, and from 
the exceeding interest which surrounded her, in right of 
her character, of her history, and of the relation which she 
fulfilled towards her brother, were the glancing quickness 
of her motions, and other circumstances in her deportment 
(such as her stooping attitude w r hen walking), which gave 
an ungraceful character to her appearance when out of 
doors. . . . 

‘ Her knowledge of literature was irregular and thoroughly 


PREFACE. 


XXIX 


unsystematic. She was content to be ignorant of many 
things ; but what she knew, and had really mastered, lay 
where it could not be disturbed—in the temple of her own 
most fervid heart/ 

It may not be amiss here to add from the same gossipy 
but graphic pen, a description of the Townend home, and 
of the way of life there, which has often before been 
quoted:— 

‘ A little semi-vestibule between two doors prefaced 
the entrance into what might be considered the principal 
room of the cottage. It was an oblong square, not above 
eight and a half feet high, sixteen feet long, and twelve 
broad; very prettily wainscoted from the floor to the 
ceiling with dark polished oak, slightly embellished with 
carving. One window there was—a perfect and unpre¬ 
tending cottage window—with little diamond panes, 
embowered at almost every season of the year with roses, 
and, in the summer and autumn, with a profusion of 
jasmine and other fragrant shrubs. From the exuberant 
luxuriance of the vegetation around it, this window, 
though tolerably large, did not furnish a very powerful 
light to one who entered from the open air. ... I was 
ushered up a little flight of stairs, fourteen in all, to a 
little drawing-room, or whatever the reader chooses to 
call it. "Wordsworth himself has described the fire-place 
of this room as his 

“ Half kitchen, and half parlour fire.” 

It was not fully seven feet six inches high, and in other 


XXX 


PREFACE. 


respects pretty nearly of the same dimensions as the rustic 
hall below. There was, however, in a small recess, a 
library of perhaps three hundred volumes, which seemed 
to consecrate this room as the poet’s study and composing- 
room, and such occasionally it was. t 

‘ About four o’clock it might be when we arrived. At 
that hour in November the daylight soon declined, and 
in an hour and a half we were all collected about the tea- 
table. 

‘This with the Wordsworths, under the simple rustic 
system of habits which they cherished then and for twenty 
years after, was the most delightful meal of the day, just 
as dinner is in great cities, and for the same reason, 
because it was prolonged into a meal of leisure and con¬ 
versation. That night I found myself, about eleven at 
night, in a pretty bedroom, about fourteen feet by twelve. 
Much I feared that this might turn out the best room in 
the house; and it illustrates the hospitality of my new 
friends to mention that it was. . . . 

‘Next morning Miss Wordsworth I found making 
breakfast in the little sitting-room. No one was there, no 
glittering breakfast service; a kettle boiled upon the fire ; 
and everything was in harmony with these unpretending 
arrangements. 

1 1 rarely had seen so humble a manage; and, contrasting 
the dignity of the man with this honourable poverty, and 
this courageous avowal of it, his utter absence of all effort 
to disguise the simple truth of the case, I felt my admira¬ 
tion increased. 


PREFACE. 


XXXI 


‘ Throughout the day, which was rainy, the same style 
of modest hospitality prevailed. Wordsworth and his 
sister, myself being of the party, walked out in spite of the 
rain, and made the circuit of the two lakes, Grasmere and 
its dependency Rydal, a walk of about six miles. 

‘ On the third morning after my arrival in Grasmere, I 
found the whole family, except the two children, prepared 
for the expedition across the mountains. I had heard of 
no horses, and took it for granted that we were to walk; 
however, at the moment of starting, a cart, the common 
farmer’s cart of the country, made its appearance, and the 
driver was a bonny young woman of the vale. Accord¬ 
ingly we were all carted along to the little town or large 
village of Ambleside, three and a half miles distant. Our 
style of travelling occasioned no astonishment; on the 
contrary, we met a smiling salutation wherever we ap¬ 
peared; Miss Wordsworth being, as I observed, the 
person most familiarly known of our party, and the one 
who took upon herself the whole expenses of the flying 
colloquies exchanged with stragglers on the road.’ 

When the family had to leave this cottage home at 
Townend, they migrated to Allan Bank in 1808, and there 
remained for three years. In the spring of 1811 they 
moved to the Parsonage of Grasmere, and thence, in the 
spring of 1813, to Rydal Mount, their final abode. Their 
sojourn in the Parsonage was saddened by the loss of two 
children, who died within six months of each other, and 
were laid side by side in the churchyard of Grasmere. 
The Parsonage looks right across the road on that burial- 


XXX11 


PREFACE . 


place, and the continual sight of this was more than 
they could bear. They were glad therefore to withdraw 
from it, and to exchange the vale of Grasmere, now filled 
for them with too mournful recollections, for the sweet 
retirement of Rydal. 

Through all these changes sister Dorothy went of course 
with them, and shared the affliction of the bereaved 
parents, as she had formerly shared their happiness. In 
1814, the year of the publication of the ‘Excursion,’ all 
of which Miss Wordsworth had transcribed, her brother 
made another tour in Scotland, and this time Yarrow was 
not unvisited. His wife and her sister went with him, but 
Dorothy, having stayed at home probably to tend the 
children, did not form one of the party, a circumstance 
which her brother always remembered with regret. 

In the summer of 1820, however, she visited the Con¬ 
tinent with her brother and Mrs. Wordsworth, but of this 
tour no record remains. Another visit, the last but one, 
Wordsworth made to Scotland in 1831, accompanied by 
his daughter Dora. This time Yarrow was revisited in 
company with Sir Walter Scott, just before his last going 
from Tweedside. Wordsworth has chronicled his parting 
with Scott in two affecting Poems, which if any reader 
does not know by heart, I would recommend him to read 
them in the Appendix to this Journal.* 

But by the time this expedition was made, Dorothy was 
an invalid confined to a sick-room. In the year 1829 she 
* See Appendix, pp. 304, 307. 


PREFA CE. xxxiii 

was seized by a severe illness, which so prostrated her, 
body and mind, that she. never recovered from it. The 
unceasing strain of years had at last worn out that 
buoyant frame and fervid spirit. She had given herself 
to one work, and that work was done. To some it may 
seem a commonplace one,—to live in and for her brother, 
to do by him a sister’s duty. With original powers which, 
had she chosen to set up on her own account, might 
have won for her high literary fame, she was content 
to forget herself, to merge all her gifts and all her interests 
in those of her brother. She thus made him other and 
higher than he could have been had he stood alone, and 
enabled him to render better service to the world than 
without her ministry he could have done. With this she 
was well content. It is sad to think that when the world 
at last knew him for what he was, the great original poet 
of this century, she who had helped to make him so was 
almost past rejoicing in it. It is said that during-those 
latter years he never spoke of her without his voice being 
sensibly softened and saddened. The return of the day 
when they two first came to Grasmere was to him a solemn 
anniversary. But though so enfeebled, she still lived on, 
and survived her brother by nearly five years. Her death 
took place at Kydal Mount in January 1855, at the age 
of eighty-three. And now, beside her brother and his wife 
and others of that household, she rests in the green Gras¬ 
mere churchyard, with the clear waters of Botha murmur¬ 
ing by. 


XXXIV 


PREFACE. 


To return to the Journal. As we read it, let us bear 
always in mind that it was not meant for us, for the 
world, or ‘the general reader/ but to be listened to by 
a small family circle, gathered round the winter fire. We 
should> therefore remember that in reading it we are, as it 
were, allowed, after seventy years, to overhear what was not 
primarily meant for our ears at all. This will account for 
a fulness and minuteness of detail which to unsympa¬ 
thetic persons may perhaps appear tedious. But the writer 
was telling her story, not for unsympathetic persons, not 
for ‘ general readers/ much less for literary critics, but for 
‘ the household hearts that were her own/ on whose 
sympathy she could reckon, even down to the minutest 
circumstances of this journey. And so there is no attempt 
at fine or sensational writing, as we now call it, no attempt 
at that modern artifice which they call word-painting. 
But there is the most absolute sincerity, the most per¬ 
fect fidelity to her own experience, the most single-minded 
endeavour to set down precisely the things they saw and 
heard and felt, just as they saw and felt and heard 
them, while moving on their quiet way. And hence 
perhaps the observant reader who submits himself to the 
spirit that pervades this Journal may find in its effortless 
narrative a truthfulness, a tenderness of observation, a 
‘vivid exactness/ a far-reaching and suggestive insight, 
for which he might look in vain in more studied pro¬ 
ductions. 

Another thing to note is the historic value that now 


PREFACE. 


XXXV 


attaches to this Journal. It marks the state of Scotland, 
and the feeling with which the most finely gifted English¬ 
men came to it seventy years since, at a time before the flood 
of English interest and ‘tourism’ had set in across the 
Border. The Wordsworths were of course not average 
English people. They came with an eye awake and trained 
for nature, and a heart in sympathy with nature and with 
man in a degree not common either in that or in any other 
age. They were north-country English too, and between 
these and the Lowland Scots there was less difference of 
fibre and of feeling than there generally is between Cum¬ 
brians and Londoners. All their lives they had been wont 
to gaze across the Solway on the dimly-outlined mountains of 
the Scottish Border. This alone and their love of scenery 
and of wandering were enough, apart from other inducement, 
to have lured them northward. But that tide of sentiment, 
which in our day has culminated in our annual tourist 
inundation, was already setting in. It had been growing 
ever since ‘ The Forty-five,’ when the sudden descent of 
the Highland host on England, arrested only by the disas¬ 
trous pause at Derby, had frightened the Londoners from 
their propriety, and all but scared the Second George be¬ 
yond seas. This terror in time subsided, but the interest 
in the northern savages still survived, and was further 
stimulated when, about fifteen years after, the portent of 
Macpherson’s Ossian burst on the astonished world of 
literature. Then about eleven years later, in 1773, the 
burly and bigoted English Lexicographer buttoned his 


XXXVI 


PREFACE. 


great-coat up to the throat and set out on a Highland 
sheltie from Inverness, on that wonderful 1 Tour to the 
Hebrides/ by which he determined to extinguish for ever 
Macpherson and his impudent forgeries. Such a tour 
seemed at that day as adventurous as would now be a 
journey to the heart of Africa, and the stories which 
Johnson told of the Hebrideans and their lives let in on 
his Cockney readers the impression of a world as strange 
as any which Livingstone could now report of. Then, in 
1786, came Burns, whose poetry, if it did not reach the 
ordinary Englishman of the literary class, at least thrilled 
the hearts of English poets. That Wordsworth had felt 
his power we know, for, independent as he stood, and 
little wont to acknowledge his indebtedness to any, he 
yet confesses in one place that it was Burns who first set 
him on the right track. This series of surprises coming 
from beyond the Tweed had drawn the eyes of Englishmen 
towards Scotland. Especially two such voices—Ossian 
speaking from the heart of the Highlands, Burns concentrat¬ 
ing in his song the whole strength and the weakness also 
of Lowland character—seemed to call across the Borders on 
Wordsworth to come and look on their land. And dur¬ 
ing all the first days of that journey the thought of Burns 
and his untimely end, then so recent, lay heavy on his 
heart. 

Again, it were well, as we read, to remember the time 
when this Diary was written. It was before Scott was 
known as an original poet, before he had given anything 


PREFACE. 


XXXVll 


to the world save 4 The Border Minstrelsy/ We are accus¬ 
tomed to credit Scott with whatever enchantment invests 
Scotland in the eyes of the English, and of foreigners. 
And doubtless a large portion of it is due to him, but 
perhaps not quite so much as we are apt to fancy. We 
commonly suppose that it was he who first discovered 
the Trossachs and Loch Katrine, and revealed them to the 
world in ‘The Lady of the Lake/ Yet they must have had 
some earlier renown, enough to make Wordsworth, travel¬ 
ling two years before the appearance even of Scott’s 4 Lay/ 
turn aside to go in search of them. 

To Dorothy Wordsworth and Coleridge this was the first 
time they had set foot on Scottish ground. Wordsworth 
himself seems to have crossed the Border two years before 
this, though of that journey there is no record remaining. 
As they set forth from Keswick on that August morning 
one can well believe that 

‘ Their exterior semblance did belie 
Their soul’s immensity.’ 

None of the three paid much regard to the outward man. 
Coleridge, perhaps, in soiled nankeen trousers, and with 
the blue and brass in which he used to appear in Uni¬ 
tarian pulpits, buttoned round his growing corpulency; 
Wordsworth in a suit of russet, not to say dingy, brown, 
with a broad flapping straw hat to protect his weak eye¬ 
sight. And as for Miss Wordsworth, we may well 
believe that in her dress she thought more of use than 
of ornament. These three, mounted on their outlandish 


XXXV111 


PREFACE. 


Irish car, with a horse, now gibbing and backing over 
a bank, now reduced to a walk, with one of the poets 
leading him by the head, must have cut but a sorry 
figure, and wakened many a smile and gibe in passers- 
by. As they wound their way up Nithsdale, one can 
well imagine how some Border lord or laird, riding, or 
driving past in smart equipage, would look on them 
askance, taking them for what Burns calls a * wheen 
gangrel bodies,’ oy for a set of Dominie Sampsons from the 
other side the Border, or for some offshoot of the 4 Auld 
Licht ’ Seceders. Poor Coleridge, ill at ease, and in the 
dumps all the way, stretched asleep on the car cushions, 
while the other two were admiring the scenery, could not 
have added to their hilarity. And it must have been a 
relief to Wordsworth and his sister, though the Journal 
hints it not, when he left them at Loch Lomond. But 
however grotesque their appearance may have been, they 
bore within them that which made their journey rich in 
delight to themselves, not to say to others. They were 
then both in their prime, Wordsworth and his sister 
being just past thirty. They had the observant eye y 
and the feeling heart which money cannot buy. No 
doubt to them, accustomed to the cleanness and comfort 
of the farms and cottages of Westmoreland, those ‘ homes 
of ancient peace,’ with their warm stone porches and 
their shelter of household sycamores, the dirt and discom¬ 
fort of the inns and of the humbler abodes they entered 
must have been repulsive enough. Even the gentlemen’s 


PREFACE. 


XXXIX 


seats had to them an air of neglect and desolation, and 
the new plantations of larch and fir with which they 
had then begun to be surrounded, gave an impression of raw¬ 
ness, barrenness, and lack of geniality. Nor less in large 
towns, as in Glasgow, were they struck by the dulness and 
dreariness in the aspect and demeanour of the ‘ dim com¬ 
mon populations.’ They saw and felt these things as keenly 
as any could do. But, unlike ordinary travellers, they were 
not scared or disgusted by them. They did not think that 
the first appearance was all. They felt and saw that there 
was more behind. With lively interest they note the 
healthy young women travelling barefoot, though well 
dressed, the children without shoes or stockings, the bare¬ 
foot boys, some with their caps wreathed with wild flowers, 
others who could read Virgil or Homer. They pass, as 
friends, beneath the humble cottage roofs, look with sym¬ 
pathy on the countenances of the inmates, partake, when 
bidden, of their homely fare, enter feelingly into their 
pathetic human histories. They came there not to criticise, 
but to know and feel. 

Again, their intense love for their Westmoreland dales 
and meres did not send them to look on those of Scotland 
with a sense of rivalry, but of brotherhood. They were 
altogether free from that vulgar habit of comparing scene 
with scene which so poisons the eye to all true perception 
of natural beauty,—as though the one great end were to 
graduate all the various scenes of nature in the list of a 
competitive examination. Hence whatever new they met 


xl 


PREFACE. 


with, they were ready to welcome and enjoy. They could 
appreciate the long, bare, houseless, treeless glens, not less 
than the well-wooded lakes. And yet Miss Wordsworth’s 
home-heartedness makes her long for some touches of home 
and human habitation to break the long bleak solitudes 
she passed through. The absolute desolation of the Moor 
of Rannoch, so stirring to some, was evidently too much 
for her. 

‘ The loneliness 

Loaded her heart, the desert tired her eye.’ 

Again, throughout the Journal we see how to her eye 
man and nature interact on each other. That deep feeling, 
so strong in her brother’s poetry, of the interest that man 
gives to nature, and still more the dignity that nature gives 
to man, is not less strongly felt by her. It is man seen 
against a great background of nature and solitude that 
most stirs her imagination. The woman sitting sole by 
the margin of Daer Water, or the old man alone in the 
corn-field, or the boy solitary on the Moor of Crawford- 
john—these in her prose are pictures quite akin and 
equal to many a one that occurs in her brother’s verse. 
This sense of man with ‘ grandeur circumfused,’ ‘ the 
sanctity of nature given to man,’ is as primary in her as in 
her brother. I cannot believe that she merely learnt it 
from him. It must have been innate in both, derived by 
both from one original source. 

One is struck throughout by the absence of all effort at 
fine or imaginative writing. But this only makes more 


PREFACE . 


xli 


effective those natural gleams that come unbidden. After 
the dulness of Glasgow and the Yale of Leven comes that 
wakening up to very ecstasy among the islands of Loch 
Lomond,—that new world, magical, enchanting. And then 
that plunge into the heart of the Highlands, when they 
find themselves by the shores of Loch Katrine, alone with 
the native people there,—the smell of the peat-reek within, 
and the scent of the bog-myrtle without; those 1 gentle 
ardours’ that awake, as they move along Lochawe-side 
and look into the cove of Cruachan, or catch that Appin 
glen by Loch Linnhe, at the bright sunset hour, enlivened 
by the haymaking people; or that new rapture they drink 
in at the first glimpse, from Loch Etive shores, of the 
blue Atlantic Isles. And then what a fitting close to such 
a tour was that meeting with Walter Scott; the two great 
poets of their time, both in the morning of their power, 
and both still unknown, joining hands of friendship which 
was to last for life ! 

But I have said more than enough. Those who care 
for the things which the Wordsworths cared for will find 
in this quiet narrative much to their mind. And they 
will find from it some new light shed on those delightful 
poems, memorial of that tour, which remain as an undying 
track of glory illuminating the path these two trod. These 
poems are printed in the Appendix, that those who know 
them well may read them once again, and that those who 
do not know them, except by Guide-book extracts, may turn 
to them, after reading the Journal, and try whether they 

d 


xlii 


PREFACE. 


cannot find in them something which they never found 
elsewhere. 


There is one entry, the last in the J ournal, made as late 
as 1832, which alludes to a fact which, but for this note, 
might have been left without comment.* Throughout the 
whole tour no distinction seems to have been made between 
Saturday and Sunday. One would have thought that, if 
nothing else, sympathy at least, which they did not lack, 
would have led Wordsworth and his sister to turn aside 
and share the Sabbath worship of the native people. 
Even the tired jade might have put in his claim for 
his Sabbath rest; not to mention the scandal which the 
sight of Sunday travellers in lonely parts of Scotland 
must then have caused, and the name they must many a 
time have earned for themselves, of ‘Sabbath-breakers.’ 
This last entry of 1832, however, marks a change, which, 
if it came to Dorothy, came not less decidedly to her 
brother. This change has been often remarked on, and has 
been stigmatized by ‘the enlightened ones’ as ‘ the reaction.’ 
They say that the earlier nature-worship, which they call 


* The following is the entry referred to :— 

‘ October 4 th, 1832.—I find that this tour was both begun and ended on 
a Sunday. I am sorry that it should have been so, though I hope and 
trust that our thoughts and feelings were not seldom as pious and serious 
as if we had duly attended a place devoted to public worship. My senti¬ 
ments have undergone a great change since 1803 respecting the absolute 
necessity of keeping the Sabbath by a regular attendance at church. 

‘D. W.’ 



PREFACE . 


xliii 


Pantheistic, speaks the true and genuine man; the later and 
more consciously Christian mood they regard as the pro¬ 
duct, not of deepened experience, but of timidity, or at 
least as the sign of decreasing insight. It is not so that I 
would interpret it. Wordsworth and his sister, with their 
rare gift of soul and eye, saw further into nature, and felt it 
more profoundly than common men can, and had no doubt 
found there something which the gross world dreams not of. 
They recovered thence a higher teaching, which men for 
ages had lost. They learnt to think of God as being 
actually very near to them in all they saw and heard; not 
as the mechanical Artificer, who makes a world and then 
dwells aloof from it, but as 

‘ The Being that is in the clouds and air, 

That is in the green leaves among the groves.’ 

In nature, which to most eyes is but a dull lifeless mass, 
impelled by dead mechanic movements, their finer spirits 
were aware of a breathing life, a living Presence, distinct, 
yet not alien from, their own spirits, and thence they drank 
life, and strength, and joy. And not in nature alone, but 
from their own hearts, from the deep places of their moral 
nature, and from their minglings with their fellow-men, 
they could oftentimes overhear 

‘ The still sad music of humanity, 

Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power 
To chasten and subdue.’ 

And through this they learned to feel for themselves, and 
not conventionally, the upholding presence of One on whom 


xliv PREFACE. 

the soul’s 1 dark foundations rest/ Likely enough in the 
prime of their strength they may have imagined that 
these teachings coming, from nature and from man were 
in themselves enough. 

But when sorrow and bereavement came, and with them 
the deepened sense of sin and of utter need, they learned 
that in nature alone was nothing which in the end they could 
abide by. They had been true to the lights they had, and 
they were led on to higher. They were led to go beyond 
nature and man for their ultimate support, and to overhear 
from that higher region another, diviner ‘ tone, into which 
all the strains of this world’s music are ultimately to be 
resolved.’ The Poet, nor less his sister, came at length to 
feel, what philosophers find so hard to believe,—that The 
Being whom he had long known as near him in the 
solitudes of nature, as close to the beatings of his own 
heart, was He who had so loved him as to die for him. 
True it is that this later and more distinctly Christian 
experience is but faintly reflected in Wordsworth’s poetry 
compared with the earlier naturalistic mood. But this is 
explained by the fact that before the later experience 
became prominent, the early fervour of poetic creation 
had already passed. Not the less for this, however, was 
the poet’s later conviction a riper, more advanced wisdom 
—not a retrogression. 

J. C. SHAIKP. 


Cuilaluinn, June 1874. 


RECOLLECTIONS 


OF 

A TOUR MADE IN SCOTLAND. 

A.D. 1803. 


FIRST WEEK. 

William and I parted from Mary on Sunday afternoon, 
August 14th, 1803; and William, Coleridge, and I left 
Keswick on Monday morning, the 15 th, at twenty minutes 
after eleven o’clock. The day was very hot; we walked 
up the hills, and along all the rough road, which made our 
walking half the day’s journey. Travelled under the foot 
of Carrock, a mountain covered with stones on the lower 
part; above, it is very rocky, but sheep pasture there; 
we saw several where there seemed to be no grass to tempt 
them. Passed the foot of Grisdale and Mosedale, both 
pastoral valleys, narrow, and soon terminating in the moun¬ 
tains—green, with scattered trees and houses, and each a 
beautiful stream. At Grisdale our horse backed upon a 
steep bank where the road was not fenced, just above a 
pretty mill at the foot of the valley; and we had a second 
threatening of a disaster in crossing a narrow bridge 
A 



2 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


between the two dales ; but this was not the fault of either 
man or horse. Slept at Mr. Younghusband’s public-house, 
Hesket Newmarket. In the evening walked to Caldbeck 
Falls, a delicious spot in which to breathe out a summer’s 
day—limestone rocks, hanging trees, pools, and water 
breaks—caves and caldrons which have been honoured 
with fairy names, and no doubt continue in the fancy of 
the neighbourhood to resound with fairy revels. 

Tuesday , August 1 6th .—Passed Rose Castle upon the 
Caldew, an ancient building of red stone, with sloping 
gardens, an ivied gateway, velvet lawns, old garden walls, 
trim flower-borders with stately and luxuriant flowers. 
We walked up to the house and stood some minutes 
watching the swallows that flew about restlessly, and flung 
their shadows upon the sunbriglit walls of the old build¬ 
ing ; the shadows glanced and twinkled, interchanged and 
crossed each other, expanded and shrunk up, appeared and 
disappeared every instant; as I observed to William and 
Coleridge, seeming more like living things than the birds 
themselves. Dined at Carlisle ; the town in a bustle with 
the assizes ; so many strange faces known in former times 
and recognised, that it half seemed as if I ought to know 
them all, and, together with the noise, the fine ladies, etc., 
they put me into confusion. This day Hatfield was con¬ 
demned. 1 I stood at the door of the gaoler’s house, where 
he was; William entered the house, and Coleridge saw 
him; I fell into conversation with a debtor, who told me 
in a dry way that he was * far over-learned,’ and another 
man observed to William that we might learn from 
Hatfield’s fate ‘not to meddle with pen and ink.’ AVe 
gave a shilling to my companion, whom we found out to be 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


3 


a friend of the family, a fellow-sailor with my brother John 2 
‘in Captain Wordsworth’s ship.’ Walked upon the city 
walls, which are broken down in places and crumbling 
away, and most disgusting from filth. The city and 
neighbourhood of Carlisle disappointed me; the banks of 
the river quite flat, and, though the holms are rich, there 
is not much beauty in the vale from the want of trees—at 
least to the eye of a person coming from England, and, 
I scarcely know how, but to me the holms had not 
a natural look; there was something towmsh in their 
appearance, a dulness in their strong deep green. To 
Longtown—not very interesting, except from the long views 
over the flat country; the road rough, chiefly newly mended. 
Reached Longtown after sunset, a town of brick houses 
belonging chiefly to the Graham family. Being in the form 
of a cross and not long, it had been better called Crosstown. 
There are several shops, and it is not a very small place; 
but I could not meet with a silver thimble, and bought a 
halfpenny brass one. Slept at the Graham’s Arms, a large 
inn. Here, as everywhere else, the people seemed utterly 
insensible of the enormity of Hatfield’s offences; the ostler 
told William that he was quite a gentleman, paid every 
one genteelly, etc. etc. He and ‘Mary’ had walked together 
to Gretna Green; a heavy rain came on when they were 
there ; a returned chaise happened to pass, and the driver 
would have taken them up; but ‘Mr. Hope’s’ carriage was 
to be sent for; he did not choose to accept the chaise- 
driver’s offer. 

Wednesday, August 17 th .—Left Longtown after break¬ 
fast. About half-a-mile from the town a guide-post and 
two roads, to Edinburgh and Glasgow; we took the left- 


4 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


hand road, to Glasgow. Here saw a specimen of the 
luxuriance of the heath-plant, as it grows in Scotland; it 
was in the enclosed plantations—perhaps sheltered by 
them. These plantations appeared to be not well grown 
for their age; the trees were stunted. Afterwards the 
road, treeless, over a peat-moss common—the Solway 
Moss ; here and there an earth-built hut with its peat 
stack, a scanty growing willow hedge round the kail- 
garth, perhaps the cow pasturing near,—a little lass 
watching it,—the dreary waste cheered by the endless 
singing of larks. 

We enter Scotland by crossing the river Sark; on the 
Scotch side of the bridge the ground is unenclosed pastur¬ 
age ; it was very green, and scattered over with that yellow 
flowered plant which we call grunsel; the hills heave and 
swell prettily enough ; cattle feeding ; a few corn-fields near 
the river. At the top of the hill opposite is Springfield, 
a village built by Sir William Maxwell—a dull uniformity 
in the houses, as is usual when all built at one time, or 
belonging to one individual, each just big enough for two 
people to live in, and in which a family, large or small as it 
may happen, is crammed. There the marriages are performed. 
Further on, though almost contiguous, is Gretna Green, 
upon a hill and among trees. This sounds well, but it 
is a dreary place; the stone houses dirty and miserable, 
with broken windows. There is a pleasant view from the 
churchyard over Solway Firth to the Cumberland moun¬ 
tains. Dined at Annan. On our left as we travelled along 
appeared the Solway Firth and the mountains beyond, but 
the near country dreary. Those houses by the roadside 
which are built of stone are comfortless and dirty; but 
we peeped into a clay ‘biggin’ that was very ‘canny/ and 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


5 


I daresay will be as warm as a swallow’s nest in winter. 
The town of Annan made me think of France and Germany; 
many of the houses large and gloomy, the size of them 
outrunning the comforts. One thing which was like 
Germany pleased me: the shopkeepers express their 
calling by some device or painting; bread-bakers have 
biscuits, loaves, cakes painted on their window-shutters; 
blacksmiths horses’ shoes, iron tools, etc. etc.; and so on 
through all trades. 

Reached Dumfries at about nine o’clock—market-day ; 
met crowds of people on the road and every one had a 
smile for us and our car. . . . The inn was a large 
house, and tolerably comfortable; Mr. Rogers and his 
sister, whom we had seen at our own cottage at Gras¬ 
mere a few days before, had arrived there that same 
afternoon on their way to the Highlands; but we did 
not see them till the next morning, and only for about a 
quarter of an hour. 

Thursday , August 18 th .—Went to the churchyard where 
Burns is buried. A bookseller accompanied us. He 
showed us the outside of Burns’s house, where he had lived 
the last three years of his life, and where he died. It has 
a mean appearance, and is in a bye situation, whitewashed; 
dirty about the doors, as almost all Scotch houses are; 
flowering plants in the windows. 

Went on to visit his grave. He lies at a corner of the 
churchyard, and his second son, Francis Wallace, beside 
him. There is no stone to mark the spot ; 3 but a hundred 
guineas have been collected, to be expended on some sort 
of monument. 1 There,’ said the bookseller, pointing to a 
pompous monument, * there lies Mr. Such-a-one ’—I have 


6 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


forgotten his name,—‘a remarkably clever man; he was 
an attorney, and hardly ever lost a cause he undertook. 
Burns made many a lampoon upon him, and there they rest, 
as you see.’ We looked at the grave with melancholy and 
painful reflections, repeating to each other his own verses :— 

‘Is there a man whose judgment clear 
Can others teach the course to steer, 

Yet runs himself life’s mad career 

Wild as the wave ?— 

Here let him pause, and through a tear 
Survey this grave. 

The poor Inhabitant below 

Was quick to learn, and wise to know, 

And keenly felt the friendly glow 
And softer flame ; 

But thoughtless follies laid him low, 

And stain’d his name.’ 

The churchyard is full of grave-stones and expensive 
monuments in all sorts of fantastic shapes—obelisk-wise, 
pillar-wise, etc. In speaking of Gretna Green, I forgot to 
mention that we visited the churchyard. The church is 
like a huge house; indeed, so are all the churches, with a 
steeple, not a square tower or spire,—a sort of thing more 
like a glass-house chimney than a Church of England 
steeple; grave-stones in abundance, few verses, yet there 
were some—no texts. Over the graves of married women 
the maiden name instead of that of the husband, ‘spouse’ 
instead of ‘wife,’ and the place of abode preceded by 
‘in’ instead of ‘of.’ When our guide had left us, we 
turned again to Burns’s house. Mrs. Burns was gone to 
spend some time by the sea-shore with her children. We 
spoke to the servant-maid at the door, who invited us 
forward, and we sat down in the parlour. The walls were 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


7 


coloured with a blue wash; on one side of the fire was a 
mahogany desk, opposite to the window a clock, and over 
the desk a print from the * Cotter’s Saturday Night,’ 
which Burns mentions in one of his letters having received 
as .a present. The house was cleanly and neat in the 
inside, the stairs of stone, scoured white, the kitchen on 
the right side of the passage, the parlour on the left. In 
the room above the parlour the Poet died, and his son 
after him in the same room. The servant told us she had 
lived five years with Mrs. Burns, who was now in great 
sorrow for the death of ‘Wallace.’ She said that Mrs. 
Burns’s youngest son was at Christ’s Hospital. 

We were glad to leave Dumfries, which is no agreeable 
place to them who do not love the bustle of a town that 
seems to be rising up to wealth. We could think of little else 
but poor Burns, and his moving about on that unpoetic 
ground. In our road to Brownhill, the next stage, we 
passed Ellisland at a little distance on our right, his farm¬ 
house. We might there have had more pleasure in looking 
round, if we had been nearer to the spot; but there is no 
thought surviving in connexion with Burns’s daily life 
that is not heart-depressing. Travelled through the vale 
of Nith, here little like a vale, it is so broad, with irregular 
hills rising up on each side, in outline resembling the 
old-fashioned valances of a bed. There is a great deal of 
arable land; the corn ripe ; trees here and there—planta¬ 
tions, clumps, coppices, and a newness in everything. 
So much of the gorse and broom rooted out that you 
wonder why it is not all gone, and yet there seems to be 
almost as much gorse and broom as corn; and they grow 
one among another you know not how. Crossed the 
Nith; the vale becomes narrow, and very pleasant; corn 


8 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


fields, green hills, clay cottages; the river’s bed rocky, with 
woody banks. Left the Nith about a mile and a half, and 
reached Brownhill, a lonely inn, where we slept. The view 
from the windows was pleasing, though some travellers 
might have been disposed to quarrel with it for its general 
nakedness; yet there was abundance of corn. It is an 
open country—open, yet all over hills. At a little distance 
were many cottages among trees, that looked very pretty. 
Brownhill is about seven or eight miles from Ellisland. 
I fancied to myself, while I was sitting in the parlour, that 
Burns might have caroused there, for most likely his 
rounds extended so far, and this thought gave a melan¬ 
choly interest to the smoky walls. It was as pretty a 
room as a thoroughly dirty one could be—a square parlour 
painted green, but so covered over with smoke and dirt 
that it looked not unlike green seen through black gauze. 
There were three windows, looking three ways, a buffet 
ornamented with tea-cups, a superfine largeish looking- 
glass with gilt ornaments spreading far and wide, the glass 
spotted with dirt, some ordinary alehouse pictures, and 
above the chimney-piece a print in a much better style 
—as William guessed, taken from a painting by Sir Joshua 
Beynolds—of some lady of quality, in the character of 
Euphrosyne. ‘Ay,’ said the servant girl, seeing that we 
looked at it, ‘there’s many travellers would give a deal for 
that, it’s more admired than any in the house.’ We 
could not but smile; for the rest were such as may be found 
in the basket of any Italian image and picture hawker. 

William and I walked out after dinner; Coleridge 
was not well, and slept upon the carriage cushions. We 
made our way to the cottages among the little hills and 
knots of wood, and then saw what a delightful country 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


9 


this part of Scotland might be made by planting forest 
trees. The ground all over heaves and swells like a sea; 
but for miles there are neither trees nor hedgerows, only 
‘mound’ fences and tracts; or slips of corn, potatoes, clover 
—with hay between, and barren land; but near the 
cottages many hills and hillocks covered with wood. We 
passed some fine trees, and paused under the shade of one 
close by an old mansion that seemed from its neglected 
state to be inhabited by farmers. But I must say 
that many of the ‘gentlemen’s’ houses which we have 
passed in Scotland have an air of neglect, and even of 
desolation. It was a beech, in the full glory of complete 
and perfect growth, very tall, with one thick stem mounting 
to a considerable height, which was split into four ‘ thighs,’ 
as Coleridge afterwards called them, each in size a fine tree. 
Passed another mansion, now tenanted by a schoolmaster; 
many boys playing upon the lawn. I cannot take leave of 
the country which we passed through to-day, without men¬ 
tioning that we saw the Cumberland mountains within half 
a mile of Ellisland, Burns’s house, the last view we had of 
them. Drayton has prettily described the connexion which 
this neighbourhood has with ours when he makes Skiddaw 
say— 

‘ Scurfell * from the sky, 

That Anadalet doth crown, with a most amorous eye, 

Salutes me every day, or at my pride looks grim, 

Oft threatning me with clouds, as I oft threatning him.’ 

These lines recurred to William’s memory, and we talked 
of Burns, and of the prospect he must have had, perhaps 
from his own door, of Skiddaw and his companions, indulg¬ 
ing ourselves in the fancy that we might have been 


Criffel. 


t Annandale. 


10 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


personally known to each other, and he have looked upon 
those objects with more pleasure for our sakes. We talked 
of Coleridge’s children and family, then at the foot of 
Skiddaw, and our own new-born John a few miles behind 
it; while the grave of Burns’s son, which we had just seen 
by the side of his father, and some stories heard at Dumfries 
respecting the dangers his surviving children were exposed 
to, filled us with melancholy concern, which had a kind of 
connexion with ourselves. In recollection of this, William 
long afterwards wrote the following Address to the sons of 
the ill-fated poet:— 

Ye now are panting up life’s hill, 

’Tis twilight time of good and ill, 

And more than common strength and skill 
Must ye display, 

If ye would give the better will 

Its lawful sway. 

Strong-bodied if ye be to bear 
Intemperance with less harm, beware, 

But if your Father’s wit ye share, 

Then, then indeed, 

Ye Sons of Burns, for watchful care 

There will be need. 

For honest men delight will take 
To shew you favour for his sake, 

Will flatter you, and Fool and Bake 

Your steps pursue, 

And of your Father’s name will make 
A snare for you. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


11 


Let no mean hope your souls enslave, 

Be independent, generous, brave; 

Your Father such example gave, 

And such revere, 

But be admonished by his grave, 

And think and fear.* 

Friday , August 1 9 th .—Open country for a considerable 
way. Passed through the village of Thornhill, built by the 
Duke of Queensberry ; the ‘ brother-houses ' so small that 
they might have been built to stamp a character of insolent 
pride on his own huge mansion of Drumlanrigg, which is 
full in view on the opposite side of the Nith. This man¬ 
sion is indeed very large ; but to us it appeared like a 
gathering together of little things. The roof is broken into 
a hundred pieces, cupolas, etc., in the shape of casters, con¬ 
juror’s balls, cups, and the like. The situation would be 
noble if the woods had been left standing ; but they have 
been cut down not long ago, and the hills above and be¬ 
low the house are quite bare. About a mile and a half 
from Drumlanrigg is a turnpike gate at the top of a hill. 
We left our car with the man, and turned aside into a field 
where we looked down upon the Nith, which runs far be¬ 
low in a deep and rocky channel; the banks woody; the 
view pleasant down the river towards Thornhill, an open 
country—corn fields, pastures, and scattered trees. Returned 
to the turnpike house, a cold spot upon a common, black 
cattle feeding close to the door. Our road led us down 
the hill to the side of the Nith, and we travelled along its 
banks for some miles. Here were clay cottages perhaps 
every half or quarter of a mile. The bed of the stream 
rough with rocks; banks irregular, now woody, now bare; 

* See Appendix A. 


12 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


here a patch of broom, there of corn, then of pasturage; 
and hills green or heathy above. We were to have given 
our horse meal and water at a public-house in one of the 
hamlets we passed through, but missed the house, for, as 
is common in Scotland, it was without a sign-board. 
Travelled on, still beside the Nith, till we came to a turnpike 
house, which stood rather high on the hill-side, and from 
the door we looked a long way up and down the river. 
The air coldish, the wind strong. 

We asked the turnpike man to let us have some meal and 
water. He had no meal, but luckily we had part of a feed 
of corn brought from Keswick, and he procured some hay 
at a neighbouring house. In the meantime I went into the 
house, where was an old man with a grey plaid over his 
shoulders, reading a newspaper. On the shelf lay a volume 
of the Scotch Encyclopaedia, a History of England, and some 
other books. The old man was a caller by the way. The 
man of the house came back, and we began to talk. He was 
very intelligent; had travelled all over England, Scotland, 
and Ireland as a gentleman’s servant, and now lived alone in 
that lonesome place. He said he was tired of his bargain, 
for he feared he should lose by it. And he had indeed 
a troublesome office, for coal-carts without number were 
passing by, and the drivers seemed to do their utmost to 
cheat him. There is always something peculiar in the 
house of a man living alone. This was but half-furnished, 
yet nothing seemed wanting for his comfort, though a female 
who had travelled half as far would have needed fifty other 
things. He had no other meat or drink in the house but 
oat bread and cheese—the cheese was made with the addi¬ 
tion of seeds—and some skimmed milk. He gave us of 
his bread and cheese, and milk, which proved to be sour. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND . 


13 


We had yet ten or eleven miles to travel, and no food 
with us. William lay under the wind in a corn-field be¬ 
low the house, being not well enough to partake of the 
milk and bread. Coleridge gave our host a pamphlet, 
‘ The Crisis of the Sugar Colonies; ’ he was well acquainted 
with Burns’s poems. There was a politeness and a manly 
freedom in this man’s manners which pleased me very 
much. He told us that he had served a gentleman, a 
captain in the army—he did not know who he was, for 
none of his relations had ever come to see him, but he used 
to receive many letters—that he had lived near Dumfries 
till they would let him stay no longer, he made such havoc 
with the game ; his whole delight from morning till night, 
and the long year through, was in field sports; he would 
be on his feet the worst days in winter, and wade through 
snow up to the middle after his game. If he had company 
he was in tortures till they were gone; he would then throw 
off his coat and put on an old jacket not worth half-a-crown. 
He drank his bottle of wine every day, and two if he had 
better sport than usual. Ladies sometimes came to stay 
with his wife, and he often carried them out in an Irish 
jaunting-car, and if they vexed him he would choose the 
dirtiest roads possible, and spoil their clothes by jumping 
in and out of the car, and treading upon them. ‘ But for 
all that ’—and so he ended all—‘ he was a good fellow, and 
a clever fellow, and he liked him well.’ He would have 
ten or a dozen hares in the larder at once, he half main¬ 
tained his family with game, and he himself was very fond 
of eating of the spoil—unusual with true heart-and-soul 
sportsmen. 

The man gave us an account of his farm where he had 
lived, which was so cheap and pleasant that we thought 


14 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


we should have liked to have had it ourselves. Soon 
after leaving the turnpike house we turned up a hill to 
the right, the road for a little way very steep, bare hills, 
with sheep. 

After ascending a little while we heard the murmur of a 
stream far below us, and saw it flowing downwards on 
our left, towards the Nith, and before us, between steep 
green hills, coming along a winding valley. The simplicity 
of the prospect impressed us very much. There was a 
single cottage by the brook side ; the dell was not heathy, 
but it was impossible not to think of Peter Bell’s High¬ 
land Girl. 

We now felt indeed that we were in Scotland; there 
was a natural peculiarity in this place. In the scenes 
of the Nith it had not been the same as England, but 
yet not simple, naked Scotland. The road led us down 
the hill, and now there was no room in the vale but for 
the river and the road; we had sometimes the stream to 
the right, sometimes to the left. The hills were pastoral, 
but we did not see many sheep ; green smooth turf on the 
left, no ferns. On the right the heath-plant grew in abun¬ 
dance, of the most exquisite colour; it covered a whole hill¬ 
side, or it was in streams and patches. We travelled along 
the vale without appearing to ascend for some miles; all 
the reaches were beautiful, in exquisite proportion, the hills 
seeming very high from being so near to us. It might have 
seemed a valley which nature had kept to herself for pen¬ 
sive thoughts and tender feelings, but that we were reminded 
at every turning of the road of something beyond by the 
coal-carts which were travelling towards us. Though these 
carts broke in upon the tranquillity of the glen, they added 
much to the picturesque effect of the different views, which 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


15 


indeed wanted nothing, though perfectly bare, houseless, 
and treeless. 

After some time our road took us upwards towards 
the end of the valley. Now the steeps were heathy 
all around. Just as we began to climb the hill, we saw 
three boys who came down the cleft of a brow on our left; 
one carried a fishing-rod, and the hats of all were braided 
with honeysuckles; they ran after one another as wanton 
as the wind. I cannot express what a character of beauty 
those few honeysuckles in the hats of the three boys gave 
to the place : what bower could they have come from? We 
walked up the hill, met two well-dressed travellers, the 
woman barefoot. Our little lads before they had gone far 
were joined by some half-dozen of their companions, all 
without shoes and stockings. They told us they lived at 
Wanlockhead, the village above, pointing to the top of 
the hill; they went to school and learned Latin, Virgil, 
and some of them Greek, Homer, but when Coleridge 
began to inquire further, off they ran, poor things! I 
suppose afraid of being examined. 

When, after a steep ascent, we had reached the top of 
the hill, we saw a village about half a mile before us, 
on the side of another hill, which rose up above the 
spot where we were, after a descent, a sort of valley or 
hollow. Nothing grew upon this ground, or the hills 
above or below, but heather, yet round about the village 
—which consisted of a great number of huts, all alike, 
and all thatched, with a few larger slated houses among 
them, and a single modern built one of a considerable 
size—were a hundred patches of cultivated ground, 
potatoes, oats, hay, and grass. We were struck with 
the sight of haycocks fastened down with aprons, sheets, 


16 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


pieces of sacking—as we supposed, to prevent the wind 
from blowing them away. We afterwards found that 
this practice was very general in Scotland. Every cottage 
seemed to have its little plot of ground, fenced by a 
ridge of earth; this plot contained two or three differ¬ 
ent divisions, kail, potatoes, oats, hay; the houses all 
standing in lines, or never far apart; the cultivated ground 
was all together also, and made a very strange appearance 
with its many greens among the dark brown hills, neither 
tree nor shrub growing; yet the grass and the potatoes 
looked greener than elsewhere, owing to the bareness of the 
neighbouring hills; it was indeed a wild and singular 
spot—to use a woman’s illustration, like a collection of 
patchwork, made of pieces as they might have chanced to 
have been cut by the mantua-maker, only just smoothed to 
fit each other, the different sorts of produce being in such 
a multitude of plots, and those so small and of such irregu¬ 
lar shapes. Add to the strangeness of the village itself, 
that we had been climbing upwards, though gently, for 
many miles, and for the last mile and a half up a steep 
ascent, and did not know of any village till we saw the 
boys who had come out to play. The air was very cold, 
and one could not help thinking what it must be in winter, 
when those hills, now ‘red brown,’ should have their 
three months’ covering of snow. 

The village, as we guessed, is inhabited by miners; the 
mines belong to the Duke of Queensberry. The road to the 
village, down which the lads scampered away, was straight 
forward. I must mention that we met, just after we had 
parted from them, another little fellow, about six years 
old, carrying a bundle over his shoulder; he seemed poor 
and half-starved, and was scratching his fingers, which were 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


17 


covered with the itch. He was a miner’s son, and lived at 
Wanlockhead; did not go to school, but this was probably 
on account of his youth. I mention him because he seemed 
to be a proof that there was poverty and wretchedness 
among these people, though we saw no other symptom of 
it; and afterwards we met scores of the inhabitants of this 
same village. Our road turned to the right, and we saw, 
at the distance of less than a mile, a tall upright building 
of grey stone, with several men standing upon the roof, as 
if they were looking out over battlements. It stood 
beyond the village, upon higher ground, as if presiding over 
it,—a kind of enchanter’s castle, which it might have been, 
a place where Don Quixote would have gloried in. When 
we drew nearer we saw, coming out of the side of the 
building, a large machine or lever, in appearance like a 
great forge-hammer, as we supposed for raising water out 
of the mines. It heaved upwards once in half a minute 
with a slow motion, and seemed to rest to take breath 
at the bottom, its motion being accompanied with a sound 
between a groan and 4 jike.’ There would have been some¬ 
thing in this object very striking in any place, as it was 
impossible not to invest the machine with some faculty 
of intellect; it seemed to have made the first step from 
brute matter to life and purpose, showing its progress 
by great power. William made a remark to this effect, 
and Coleridge observed that it was like a giant with 
one idea. At all events, the object produced a striking 
effect in that place, where everything was in unison with it 
—particularly the building itself, which was turret-shaped, 
and with the figures upon it resembled much one of the 
fortresses in the wooden cuts of Bunyan’s ‘ Holy War.’ 

After ascending a considerable way we began to descend 
B 


18 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


again; and now we met a team of horses dragging 
an immense tree to the lead mines, to repair or add 
to the building, and presently after we came to a cart, 
with another large tree, and one horse left in it, right in 
the middle of the highway. We were a little out of 
humour, thinking we must wait till the team came back. 
There were men and boys without number all staring at 
us ; after a little consultation they set their shoulders to 
the cart, and with a good heave all at once they moved it, 
and we passed along. These people were decently dressed, 
and their manners decent; there was no hooting or im¬ 
pudent laughter. Leadhills, another mining village, was 
the place of our destination for the night; and soon after 
we had passed the cart we came in sight of it. This 
village and the mines belong to Lord Hopetoun; it has 
more stone houses than Wanlockhead, one large old man¬ 
sion, and a considerable number of old trees—beeches, I 
believe. The trees told of the coldness of the climate; 
they were more brown than green—far browner than the 
ripe grass of the little hay-garths. Here, as at Wanlockhead, 
were haycocks, hay-stacks, potato-beds, and kail-garths in 
every possible variety of shape, but, I suppose from the ir¬ 
regularity of the ground, it looked far less artificial—indeed, 
I should think that a painter might make several beauti¬ 
ful pictures in this village. It straggles down both sides 
of a mountain glen. As I have said, there is a large man¬ 
sion. There is also a stone building that looks like a 
school, and the houses are single, or in clusters, or rows 
as it may chance. 

We passed a decent-looking inn, the Hopetoun Arms; 
but the house of Mrs. Otto, a widow, had been recom¬ 
mended to us with high encomiums. We did not then 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND . 


19 


understand Scotch inns, and were not quite satisfied at 
first with our accommodations, hut all things were smoothed 
over by degrees; we had a fire lighted in our dirty 
parlour, tea came after a reasonable waiting; and the fire 
with the gentle aid of twilight, burnished up the room 
into cheerful comfort. Coleridge was weary; but William 
and I walked out after tea. We talked with one of the 
miners, who informed us that the building which we had 
supposed to be a school was a library belonging to the 
village. He said they had got a book into it a few weeks 
ago, which had cost thirty pounds, and that they had all 
sorts of books. ‘ What! have you Shakespeare 1 * ‘ Yes, 

we have that/ and we found, on further inquiry, that they 
had a large library, 4 of long standing, that Lord Hopetoun 
had subscribed liberally to it, and that gentlemen who 
came with him were in the habit of making larger or 
smaller donations. Each man who had the benefit of it 
paid a small sum monthly—I think about fourpence. 

The man we talked with spoke much of the comfort and 
quiet in which they lived one among another; he made use 
of a noticeable expression, saying that they were ‘very 
peaceable people considering they lived so much under¬ 
ground ; *—wages were about thirty pounds a year; they 
had land for potatoes, warm houses, plenty of coals, and 
only six hours’ work each day, so that they had leisure for 
reading if they chose. He said the place was healthy, that 
the inhabitants lived to a great age; and indeed we saw 
no appearance of ill-health in their countenances; but it is 
not common for people working in lead mines to be healthy; 
and I have since heard that it is not a healthy place. How¬ 
ever this may be, they are unwilling to allow it; for the 
landlady the next morning, when I said to her ‘You have 


20 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


a cold climate/ replied, 1 Ay, but it is varra, halesome 
We inquired of the man respecting the large mansion; 
he told us that it was built, as we might see, in the form 
of an H, and belonged to the Hopetouns, and they took 
their title from thence,* and that part of it was used as a 
chapel. We went close to it, and were a good deal amused 
with the building itself, standing forth in bold contradiction 
of the story which I daresay every man of Lead hills tells, 
and every man believes, that it is in the shape of an H; it 
is but half an H, and one must be very accommodating to 
allow it even so much, for the legs are far too short. 

We visited the burying-ground, a plot of land not very 
small, crowded with graves, and upright grave-stones, over¬ 
looking the village and the dell. It was now the closing in 
of evening. Women and children were gathering in the 
linen for the night, which was bleaching by the burn-side; 
—the graves overgrown with grass, such as, by industrious 
culture, had been raised up about the houses; but there 
were bunches of heather here and there, and with the 
blue-bells that grew among the grass the small plot of 
ground had a beautiful and wild appearance. 

William left me, and I went to a shop to purchase some 
thread; the woman had none that suited me ; but she would 
send a ‘ wee lad ’ to the other shop. In the meantime I 
sat with the mother, and was much pleased with her 
manner and conversation. She had an excellent fire, and her 
cottage, though very small, looked comfortable and cleanly; 
but remember I saw it only by firelight. She confirmed 
what the man had told us of the quiet manner in which 
they lived; and indeed her house and fireside seemed to need 

* There is some mistake here. The Hopetoun title was not taken from 
any place in the Leadhills, much less from the house shaped like an H.— Ed. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


21 


nothing to make it a cheerful happy spot, hut health and good 
humour. There was a bookishness, a certain formality in 
this woman’s language, which was very remarkable. She 
had a dark complexion, dark eyes, and wore a very 
white cap, much over her face, which gave her the 
look of a French woman, and indeed afterwards the 
women on the roads frequently reminded us of French 
women, partly from the extremely white caps of the elder 
women, and still more perhaps from a certain gaiety and 
party-coloured appearance in their dress in general. White 
bed-gowns are very common, and yon rarely meet a young 
girl with either hat or cap; they buckle up their hair often 
in a graceful manner. 

I returned to the inn, and went into the kitchen 
to speak with the landlady; she had made a hundred 
hesitations when I told her we wanted three beds. At 
last she confessed she had three beds, and showed me 
into a parlour which looked damp and cold, hut she as¬ 
sured me in a tone that showed she was unwilling to be 
questioned further, that all her beds were well aired. I sat 
a while by the kitchen fire with the landlady, and began 
to talk to her; hut, much as I had heard in her praise—for 
the shopkeeper had told me she was a varra discreet 
woman—I cannot say that her manners pleased me much. 
But her servant made amends, for she was as pleasant and 
cheerful a lass as was ever seen; and when we asked her 
to do anything, she answered, ‘ Oh yes,’ with a merry 
smile, and almost ran to get us what we wanted. She was 
about sixteen years old: wore shoes and stockings, and 
had her hair tucked up with a comb. The servant at 
Brownhill was a coarse-looking wench, barefoot and bare¬ 
legged. I examined the kitchen round about; it was 


22 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


crowded with furniture, drawers, cupboards, dish-covers, 
pictures, pans, and pots, arranged without order, except 
that the plates were on shelves, and the dish-covers hung 
in rows ; these were very clean, but floors, passages, stair¬ 
case, everything else dirty. There were two beds in 
recesses in the wall; above one of them I noticed a shelf 
with some books :—it made me think of Chaucer’s Clerke 
of Oxenforde:— 

‘ Liever had he at his bed’s head 
Twenty books clothed in black and red.’ 

They were baking oat-bread, which they cut into quar¬ 
ters, and half-baked over the fire, and half-toasted before 
it. There was a suspiciousness about Mrs. Otto, almost 
like ill-nature; she was very jealous of any inquiries that 
might appear to be made with the faintest idea of a com¬ 
parison between Leadhills and any other place, except the 
advantage was evidently on the side of Leadhills. We 
had nice honey to breakfast. When ready to depart, we 
learned that we might have seen the library, which we had 
not thought of till it was too late, and we were very sorry 
to go away without seeing it. 

Saturday , August 20 th .—Left Leadhills at nine o’clock, 
regretting much that we could not stay another day, that 
we might have made more minute inquiries respecting the 
manner of living of the miners, and been able to form 
an estimate, from our own observation, of the degree of 
knowledge, health, and comfort that there was among them. 
The air was keen and cold; we might have supposed it to 
be three months later in the season and two hours earlier 
in the day. The landlady had not lighted us a fire; so 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


23 


I was obliged to get myself toasted in the kitchen, and 
when we set off I put on both grey cloak and spencer. 

Our road carried us down the valley, and we soon lost 
sight of Leadhills, for the valley made a turn almost 
immediately, and we saw two miles, perhaps, before us; 
the glen sloped somewhat rapidly—heathy, bare, no hut or 
house. Passed by a shepherd, who was sitting upon the 
ground, reading, with the book on his knee, screened from 
the wind by his plaid, while a flock of sheep were feeding 
near him among the rushes and coarse grass—for, as we 
descended we came among lands where grass grew with 
the heather. Travelled through several reaches of the 
glen, which somewhat resembled the valley of Menock on 
the other side of Wanlockhead; but it was not near so 
beautiful; the forms of the mountains did not melt so 
exquisitely into each other, and there was a coldness, and, 
if I may so speak, a want of simplicity in the surface of 
the earth; the heather was poor, not covering a whole hill¬ 
side ; not in luxuriant streams and beds interveined with 
rich verdure; but patchy and stunted, with here and there 
coarse grass and rushes. But we soon came in sight of a 
spot that impressed us very much. At the lower end of 
this new reach of the vale was a decayed tree, beside a 
decayed cottage, the vale spreading out into a level area 
which was one large field, without fence and without 
division, of a dull yellow colour; the vale seemed to par¬ 
take of the desolation of the cottage, and to participate in 
its decay. And yet the spot was in its nature so dreary 
that one would rather have wondered how it ever came to 
be tenanted by man, than lament that it was left to waste 
and solitude. Yet the encircling hills were so exquisitely 
formed that it was impossible to conceive anything more 


24 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


lovely than this place would have been if the valley and 
hill-sides had been interspersed with trees, cottages, green 
fields, and hedgerows. But all was desolate; the one large 
field which filled up the area of the valley appeared, as I 
have said, in decay, and seemed to retain the memory of 
its connexion with man in some way analogous to the 
ruined building; for it was as much of a field as Mr. King’s 
best pasture scattered over with his fattest cattle. 

We went on, looking before us, the place losing nothing 
of its hold upon our minds, when we discovered a woman 
sitting right in the middle of the field, alone, wrapped 
up in a grey cloak or plaid. She sat motionless all the 
time we looked at her, which might be nearly half an 
hour. We could not conceive why she sat there, for 
there were neither sheep nor cattle in the field ; her ap¬ 
pearance was very melancholy. In the meantime our road 
carried us nearer to the cottage, though we were crossing 
over the hill to the left, leaving the valley below us, and 
we perceived that a part of the building was inhabited, and 
that what we had supposed to be one blasted tree was 
eight trees, four of which were entirely blasted; the others 
partly so, and round about the place was a little potato 
and cabbage garth, fenced with earth. No doubt, that 
woman had been an inhabitant of the cottage. However 
this might be, there was so much obscurity and uncertainty 
about her, and her figure agreed so well with the desolation 
of the place, that we were indebted to the chance of her 
being there for some of the most interesting feelings that 
we had ever had from natural objects connected with man 
in dreary solitariness. 

We had been advised to go along the new road, which 
would have carried us down the vale; but we met some 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


25 


travellers who recommended us to climb the hill, and go 
by the village of Crawfordjohn as being much nearer. 
We had a long hill, and after having reached the top, steep 
and bad roads, so we continued to walk for a considerable 
way. The air was cold and clear—the sky blue. We 
walked cheerfully along in the sunshine, each of us alone, 
only William had the charge of the horse and car, so he 
sometimes took a ride, which did but poorly recompense 
him for the trouble of driving. I never travelled with 
more cheerful spirits than this day. Our road was along 
the side of a high moor. I can always walk over a moor 
with a light foot; I seem to be drawn more closely to 
nature in such places than anywhere else; or rather I feel 
more strongly the power of nature over me, and am better 
satisfied with myself for being able to find enjoyment in 
what unfortunately to many persons is either dismal or 
insipid. This moor, however, was more than commonly 
interesting; we could see a long way, and on every side of 
us were larger or smaller tracts of cultivated land. Some 
were extensive farms, yet in so large a waste they did but 
look small, with farm-houses, barns, etc., others like little 
cottages, with enough to feed a cow, and supply the family 
with vegetables. In looking at these farms we had always 
one feeling. Why did the plough stop there Why 
might not they as well have carried it twice as far 1 There 
were no hedgerows near the farms, and very few trees. As 
we were passing along, we saw an old man, the first we 
had seen in a Highland bonnet, walking with a staff at a 
very slow pace by the edge of one of the moorland corn¬ 
fields ; he wore a grey plaid, and a dog was by his side. 
There was a scriptural solemnity in this man’s figure, a 
sober simplicity which was most impressive. Scotland 


26 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


is the country above all others that I have seen, in which 
a man of imagination may carve out his own pleasures. 
There are so many inhabited solitudes, and the employments 
of the people are so immediately connected with the places 
where you find them, and their dresses so simple, so much 
alike, yet, from their being folding garments, admitting of 
an endless variety, and falling often so gracefully. 

After some time we descended towards a broad vale, 
passed one farm-house, sheltered by fir trees, with a burn 
close to it; children playing, linen bleaching. The vale 
was open pastures and corn-fields unfenced, the land poor. 
The village of Crawfordjohn on the slope of a hill a long 
way before us to the left. Asked about our road of a man 
who was driving a cart; he told us to go through the vil¬ 
lage, then along some fields, and we should come to a 
‘ herd’s house by the burn side.’ The highway was right 
through the vale, unfenced on either side; the people of 
the village, who were making hay, all stared at us and our 
carriage. We inquired the road of a middle-aged man, 
dressed in a shabby black coat, at work in one of the hay 
fields; he looked like the minister of the place, and when 
he spoke we felt assured that he was so, for he was not 
sparing of hard words, which, however, he used with great 
propriety, and he spoke like one who had been accustomed 
to dictate. Our car wanted mending in the wheel, and we 
asked him if there was a blacksmith in the village. 4 Yes/ 
he replied, but when we showed him the wheel he told 
William that he might mend it himself without a black¬ 
smith, and he would put him in the way; so he fetched 
hammer and nails and gave his directions, which William 
obeyed, and repaired the damage entirely to his own satis¬ 
faction and the priest’s, who did not offer to lend any 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


27 


assistance himself; not as if he would not have been willing 
in case of need; but as if it were more natural for him to 
dictate, and because he thought it more fit that William 
should do it himself. He spoke much about the propriety 
of every man’s lending all the assistance in his power to 
travellers, and with some ostentation or self-praise. Here 
I observed a honey-suckle and some flowers growing in a 
garden, the first I had seen in Scotland. It is a pretty 
cheerful-looking village, but must be very cold in winter; 
it stands on a hillside, and the vale itself is very high 
ground, unsheltered by trees. 

Left the village behind us, and our road led through 
arable ground for a considerable way, on which were grow¬ 
ing very good crops of corn and potatoes. Our friend 
accompanied us to show us the way, and Coleridge and he 
had a scientific conversation concerning the uses and pro¬ 
perties of lime and other manures. He seemed to be a 
well-informed man; somewhat pedantic in his manners; 
but this might be only the difference between Scotch and 
English.* 

Soon after he had parted from us, we came upon a stony, 
rough road over a black moor; and presently to the ‘ herd’s 
house by the burn side.’ We could hardly cross the burn 
dry-shod, over which was the only road to the cottage. In 
England there would have been stepping-stones or a bridge; 
but the Scotch need not be afraid of wetting their bare feet. 
The hut had its little kail-garth fenced with earth; there 
was no other enclosure—but the common, heathy with 
coarse grass. Travelled along the common for some miles, 
before we joined the great road from Longtown to Glasgow 
—saw on the bare hill-sides at a distance, sometimes a 
* Probably the Rev. John Aird, minister of the parish, 1801-1815. 


28 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


solitary farm, now and then a plantation, and one very 
large wood, with an appearance of richer ground above; 
but it was so very high we could not think it possible. 
Having descended considerably, the common was no longer 
of a peat-mossy brown heath colour, but grass with rushes 
was its chief produce; there was sometimes a solitary hut, 
no enclosures except the kail-garth, and sheep pasturing in 
flocks, with shepherd-boys tending them. I remember one 
boy in particular; he had no hat on, and only had a grey 
plaid wrapped about him. It is nothing to describe, but on 
a bare moor, alone with his sheep, standing, as he did, in 
utter quietness and silence, there was something uncom¬ 
monly impressive in his appearance, a solemnity which re¬ 
called to our minds the old man in the corn-field. We 
passed many people who were mowing, or raking the grass 
of the common; it was little better than rushes; but they 
did not mow straight forward, only here and there, where it 
was the best; in such a place hay-cocks had an uncommon 
appearance to us. 

After a long descent we came to some plantations which 
were not far from Douglas Mill. The country for some 
time had been growing into cultivation, and now it was a 
wide vale with large tracts of corn; trees in clumps, no 
hedgerows, which always make a country look bare and 
unlovely. For my part, I was better pleased with the 
desert places we had left behind, though no doubt the in¬ 
habitants of this place think it ‘ a varra bonny spot/ for the 
Scotch are always pleased with their own abode, be it what 
it may; and afterwards at Edinburgh, when we were talking 
with a bookseller of our travels, he observed that it was ‘ a 
fine country near Douglas Mill.’ Douglas Mill is a single 
house, a large inn, being one of the regular stages between 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


29 


Longtown and Glasgow, and therefore a fair specimen of 
the best of the country inns of Scotland. As soon as our 
car stopped at the door we felt the difference. At an English 
inn of this size, a waiter, or the master or mistress, would 
have been at the door immediately, but we remained some 
time before anybody came; then a barefooted lass made 
her appearance, but she only looked at us and went away. 
The mistress, a remarkably handsome woman, showed us 
into a large parlour; we ordered mutton-chops, and I 
finished my letter to Mary ; writing on the same window- 
ledge on which William had written to me two years before. 

After dinner, William and I sat by a little mill-race in 
the garden. We had left Leadhills and Wanlockhead 
far above us, and now were come into a warmer climate ; 
but there was no richness in the face of the country. The 
shrubs looked cold and poor, and yet there were some very 
fine trees within a little distance of Douglas Mill, so that 
the reason, perhaps, why the few low shrubs and trees 
which were growing in the gardens seemed to be so un- 
luxuriant, might be, that there being no hedgerows, the 
general appearance of the country was naked, and I could 
not help seeing the same coldness where, perhaps, it did not 
exist in itself to any great degree, for the corn crops are 
abundant, and I should think the soil is not bad. While we 
were sitting at the door, two of the landlady’s children came 
out; the elder, a boy about six years old, was running away 
from his little brother, in petticoats; the ostler called out, 
‘ Sandy, tak’ your wee brither wi’ you; ’ another voice from 
the window, ‘ Sawny, dinna leave your wee brither;’ the 
mother then came, ‘ Alexander, tak’ your wee brother by the 
hand; ’ Alexander obeyed, and the two went off in peace 
together. We were charged eightpence for hay at this inn, 


30 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


another symptom of our being in Scotland. Left Douglas 
Mill at about three o’clock ; travelled through an open corn 
country, the tracts of corn large and unenclosed. We often 
passed women or children who were watching a single cow 
while it fed upon the slips of grass between the corn. 
William asked a strong woman, about thirty years of age, 
who looked like the mistress of a family—I suppose moved 
by gome sentiment of compassion for her being so employed, 
—if the cow would eat the corn if it were left to itself: she 
smiled at his simplicity. It is indeed a melancholy thing 
to see a full-grown woman thus waiting, as it were, body 
and soul devoted to the poor beast; yet even this is better 
than working in a manufactory the day through. 

We came to a moorish tract; saw before us the hills of 
Loch Lomond, Ben Lomond and another, distinct each by 
itself. Not far from the roadside were some benches 
placed in rows in the middle of a large field, with a sort of 
covered shed like a sentry-box, but much more like those 
boxes which the Italian puppet-showmen in London use. 
We guessed that it was a pulpit or tent for preaching, and 
were told that a sect met there occasionally, who held that 
toleration was unscriptural, and would have all religions 
but their own exterminated. I have forgotten what name 
the man gave to this sect; we could not learn that it dif¬ 
fered in any other respect from the Church of Scotland. 
Travelled for some miles along the open country, which 
was all without hedgerows, sometimes arable, sometimes 
moorish, and often whole tracts covered with grunsel.* 
There was one field, which one might have believed had 
been sown with grunsel, it was so regularly covered with 
it—a large square field upon a slope, its boundary marked to 
* Ragweed. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


31 


our eyes only by the termination of the bright yellow; 
contiguous to it were other fields of the same size and 
shape, one of clover, the other of potatoes, all equally 
regular crops. The oddness of this appearance, the grunsel 
being uncommonly luxuriant, and the field as yellow as 
gold, made William laugh. Coleridge was melancholy upon 
it, observing that there was land enough wasted to rear a 
healthy child. 

We left behind us, considerably to the right, a single high 
mountain;* I have forgotten its name; we,had had it long in 
view. Saw before us the river Clyde, its course at right 
angles to our road, which now made a turn, running parallel 
with the river; the town of Lanerk in sight long before 
we came to it. I was somewhat disappointed with the 
first view of the Clyde : 5 the banks, though swelling and 
varied, had a poverty in their appearance, chiefly from the 
want of wood and hedgerows. Crossed the river and 
ascended towards Lanerk, which stands upon a hill. When 
we were within about a mile of the town, William parted 
from Coleridge and me, to go to the celebrated waterfalls. 
Coleridge did not attempt to drive the horse; but led him 
all the way. We inquired for the best inn, and were told 
that the New Inn was the best; but that they had very 
‘ genteel apartments ’ at the Black Bull, and made less 
charges, and the Black Bull was at the entrance of the 
town, so we thought we would stop there, as the horse was 
obstinate and weary. But when we came to the Black Bull 
we had no wish to enter the apartments; for it seemed the 
abode of dirt and poverty, yet it was a large building. 
The town showed a sort of French face, and would have 
done much more, had it not been for the true British tinge 
* Tinto. 


32 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


of coal-smoke; the doors and windows dirty, the shops 
dull, the women too seemed to be very dirty in their dress. 
The town itself is not ugly; the houses are of grey stone, 
the streets not very narrow, and the market-place decent. 
The New Inn is a handsome old stone building, formerly a 
gentleman’s house. We were conducted into a parlour, 
where people had been drinking ; the tables were unwiped, 
chairs in disorder, the floor dirty, and the smell of liquors 
was most offensive. We were tired, however, and rejoiced 
in our tea. 

The evening sun was now sending a glorious light through 
the street, which ran from west to east; the houses were of 
a fire red, and the faces of the people as they walked west¬ 
ward were almost like a blacksmith when he is at work 
by night. I longed to be out, and meet with William, that 
we might see the Falls before the day was gone. Poor 
Coleridge was unwell, and could not go. I inquired my 
road, and a little girl told me she would go with me to the 
porter’s lodge, where I might be admitted. I was grieved 
to hear that the Falls of the Clyde were shut up in a 
gentleman’s grounds, and to be viewed only by means of 
lock and key. Much, however, as the pure feeling with 
which one would desire to visit such places is disturbed by 
useless, impertinent, or even unnecessary interference with 
nature, yet when I was there the next morning I seemed 
to feel it a less disagreeable thing than in smaller and more 
delicate spots, if I may use the phrase. My guide, a sen¬ 
sible little girl, answered my inquiries very prettily. She 
was eight years old, read in the ‘ Collection,’ a book 
which all the Scotch children whom I have questioned 
read in. I found it was a collection of hymns; she could 
repeat several of Dr. Watts’. We passed through a great 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


33 


part of the town, then turned down a steep hill, and came 
in view of a long range of cotton mills,* the largest and 
loftiest I had ever seen; climbed upwards again, our road 
leading us along the top of the left bank of the river ; both 
banks very steep and richly wooded. The girl left me at 
the porter’s lodge. Having asked after William, I was 
told that no person had been there, or could enter but by 
the gate. The night was coming on, therefore 1 did not 
venture to go in, as I had no hope of meeting William. I 
had a delicious walk alone through the wood; the sound 
of the water was very solemn, and even the cotton mills in 
the fading light of evening had somewhat of the majesty 
and stillness of the natural objects. It was nearly dark 
when I reached the inn. I found Coleridge sitting by a 
good fire, which always makes an inn room look comfort¬ 
able. In a few minutes William arrived; he had heard 
of me at the gate, and followed as quickly as he could, 
shouting after me. He was pale and exceedingly tired. 

After he had left us he had taken a wrong road, and 
while looking about to set himself right had met with a 
barefooted boy, who said he would go with him. The little 
fellow carried him by a wild path to the upper of the Falls, 
the Boniton Linn, and coming down unexpectedly upon 
it, he was exceedingly affected by the solemn grandeur of 
the place. This fall is not much admired or spoken of by 
travellers ; you have never a full, breast view of it; it does 
not make a complete self-satisfying place, an abode of its 
own, as a perfect waterfall seems to me to do ; but the river, 
down which you look through a long vista of steep and 
ruin-like rocks, the roaring of the waterfall, and the solemn 
evening lights, must have been most impressive. One of 
the rocks on the near bank, even in broad daylight, as we 
* New Lanark, Robert Owen’s mills. 

C 


34 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


saw it the next morning, is exactly like the fractured arch 
of an abbey. With the lights and shadows of evening upon 
it, the resemblance must have been much more striking. 

William’s guide was a pretty boy, and he was exceedingly 
pleased with him. Just as they were quitting the waterfall, 
William’s mind being full of the majesty of the scene, the 
little fellow pointed to the top of a rock, ‘ There’s a fine 
slae-bush there.’ ‘Ay,’ said William, ‘but there are no 
slaes upon it,’ which was true enough; but I suppose the 
child remembered the slaes of another summer, though, as 
he said, he was but ‘ half seven years old,’ namely, six and 
a half. He conducted William to the other fall, and as they 
were going along a narrow path, they came to a small cavern, 
where William lost him, and looking about, saw his pretty 
figure in a sort of natural niche fitted for a statue, from 
which the boy jumped out laughing, delighted with the 
success of his trick. William told us a great deal about 
him, while he sat by the fire, and of the pleasure of his 
walk, often repeating, ‘I wish you had been with me.* 
Having no change, he gave the boy sixpence, which was 
certainly, if he had formed any expectations at all, far be¬ 
yond them; but he received it with the utmost indifference, 
without any remark of surprise or pleasure; most likely he 
did not know how many halfpence he could get for it, and 
twopence would have pleased him more. My little girl 
was delighted with the sixpence I gave her, and said she 
would buy a book with it on Monday morning. What a 
difference between the manner of living and education of 
boys and of girls among the lower classes of people in towns ! 
she had never seen the Falls of the Clyde, nor had ever been 
further than the porter’s lodge; the boy, I daresay, knew 
every hiding-place in every accessible rock, as w*ell as the 
fine ‘ slae bushes ’ and the nut trees. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


35 


SECOND WEEK. 

Sunday , August 21 st .—The morning was very hot, a 
morning to tempt us to linger by the water-side. I wished 
to have had the day before us, expecting so much from 
what William had seen; but when we went there, I did 
not desire to stay longer than till the hour which we had 
prescribed to ourselves ; for it was a rule not to be broken in 
upon, that the person who conducted us to the Falls was to 
remain by our side till we chose to depart. We left our inn 
immediately after breakfast. The lanes were full of people 
going to church; many of the middle-aged women wore long 
scarlet cardinals, and were without hats: they brought to 
my mind the women of Goslar as they used to go to church 
in their silver or gold caps, with their long cloaks, black or 
coloured. 

The banks of the Clyde from Lanerk to the Falls rise 
immediately from the river; they are lofty and steep, and 
covered with wood. The road to the Falls is along the top 
of one of the banks, and to the left you have a prospect of 
the open country, corn fields and scattered houses. To the 
right, over the river, the country spreads out, as it were, 
into a plain covered over with hills, no one hill much 
higher than another, but hills all over; there were endless 
pastures overgrown with broom, and scattered trees, with¬ 
out hedges or fences of any kind, and no distinct footpaths. 
It was delightful to see the lasses in gay dresses running 


36 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


like cattle among the broom, making their way straight 
forward towards the river, here and there as it might 
chance. They waded across the stream, and, when they 
had reached the top of the opposite bank, sat down by the 
road-side, about half a mile from the town, to put on their 
shoes and cotton stockings, which they brought tied up in 
pocket-handkerchiefs. The porter’s lodge is about a mile 
from Lanerk, and the lady’s house—for the whole belongs 
to a lady, whose name I have forgotten*—is upon a hill at 
a little distance. We walked, after we had entered the 
private grounds, perhaps two hundred yards along a gravel 
carriage-road, then came to a little side gate, which opened 
upon a narrow gravel path under trees, and in a minute 
and a half, or less, were directly opposite to the great water¬ 
fall. I was much affected by the first view of it. The 
majesty and strength of the water, for I had never before 
seen so large a cataract, struck me with astonishment, 
which died away, giving place to more delightful feelings; 
though there were some buildings that I could have wished 
had not been there, though at first unnoticed. The chief 
of them was a neat, white, lady-like house, + very near to 
the waterfall. William and Coleridge however were in a 
better and perhaps wiser humour, and did not dislike the 
house; indeed, it was a very nice-looking place, with a 
moderate-sized garden, leaving the green fields free and 
open. This house is on the side of the river opposite 
to the grand house and the pleasure-grounds. The water¬ 
fall Cora Linnf is composed of two falls, with a sloping 
space, which appears to be about twenty yards between, 
but is much more. The basin which receives the fall is 
enclosed by noble rocks, with trees, chiefly hazels, birch, 
* Lady Mary Ross. + Corehouse. J See Appendix B. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


37 


and ash growing out of their sides whenever there is any 
hold for them; and a magnificent resting-place it is for 
such a river; I think more grand than the Falls themselves. 

After having stayed some time, we returned by the same 
footpath into the main carriage-road, and soon came upon 
what William calls an ell-wide gravel walk, from which we 
had different views of the Linn. We sat upon a bench, 
placed for the sake of one of these views, whence we looked 
down upon the waterfall, and over the open country, and 
saw a ruined tower, called Wallace’s Tower, which stands at 
a very little distance from the fall, and is an interesting 
object. A lady and gentleman, more expeditious tourists 
than ourselves, came to the spot; they left us at the seat, 
and we found them again at another station above the Falls. 
Coleridge, who is always good-natured enough to enter into 
conversation with anybody whom he meets in his way, 
began to talk with the gentleman, who observed that it 
was a majestic waterfall. Coleridge was delighted with the 
accuracy of the epithet, particularly as he had been 
settling in his own mind the precise meaning of the words 
grand, majestic, sublime, etc., and had discussed the subject 
with William at some length the day before. ‘ Yes, sir,’ 
says Coleridge, 4 it is a majestic waterfall.’ ‘ Sublime and 
beautiful,’ replied his friend. Poor Coleridge could make 
no answer, and, not very desirous to continue the conver¬ 
sation, came to us and related the story, laughing heartily. 

The distance from one Linn to the other may he half a 
mile or more, along the same ell-wide walk. We came to 
a pleasure-house, of which the little girl had the key; she 
said it was called the Fog-house, because it was lined with 
‘ fog,’ namely moss. On the outside it resembled some of 
the huts in the prints belonging to Captain Cook’s Voyages 


38 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


and within was like a hay-stack scooped out. It was cir¬ 
cular, with a dome-like roof, a seat all round fixed to the 
wall, and a table in the middle,—seat, wall, roof, and table 
all covered with moss in the neatest manner possible. It 
was as snug as a bird’s nest; I wish we had such a one at 
the top of our orchard, only a great deal smaller. We 
afterwards found that huts of the same kind were common 
in the pleasure-grounds of Scotland;. but we never saw any 
that were so beautifully wrought as this. It had, however, 
little else to recommend it, the situation being chosen 
without judgment; there was no prospect from it, nor was 
it a place of seclusion and retirement, for it stood close to 
the ell-wide gravel walk. We wished we could have 
shoved it about a hundred yards further on, when we arrived 
at a bench which was also close to the walk, for just below 
the bench, the walk elbowing out into a circle, there was a 
beautiful spring of clear water, which we could see rise up 
continually, at the bottom of a round stone basin full to the 
brim, the water gushing out at a little outlet and passing 
away under the walk. A reason was wanted for placing 
the hut where it is; what a good one would this little 
spring have furnished for bringing it hither! Along the 
whole of the path were openings at intervals for views of 
the river, but, as almost always happens in gentlemen’s 
grounds, they were injudiciously managed; you were pre¬ 
pared for a dead stand—by a parapet, a painted seat, or some 
other device. 

We stayed some time at the Boniton Fall, which has 
one great advantage over the other falls, that it is at the 
termination of the pleasure-grounds, and we see no traces 
of the boundary-line; yet, except under some accidental 
circumstances, such as a sunset like that of the preceding 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


39 


evening, it is greatly inferior to the Cora Linn. We 
returned to the inn to dinner. The landlord set the first 
dish upon the table, as is common in England, and we were 
well waited upon. This first dish was true Scottish—a 
boiled sheep’s head, with the hair singed off; Coleridge 
and I ate heartily of it; we had barley broth, in which the 
sheep’s head had been boiled. A party of tourists whom 
we had met in the pleasure-grounds drove from the door 
while we were waiting for dinner; I guess they were fresh 
from England, for they had stuffed the pockets of their 
carriage with bundles of heather, roots and all, just as if 
Scotland grew no heather but on the banks of the Clyde. 
They passed away with their treasure towards Loch Lomond. 
A party of boys, dressed all alike in blue, very neat, were 
standing at the chaise-door; we conjectured they were 
charity scholars; but found on inquiry that they were 
apprentices to the cotton factory; we were told that they 
were well instructed in reading and writing. We had seen 
in the morning a flock of girls dressed in grey coming out 
of the factory, probably apprentices also. 

After dinner set off towards Hamilton, but on foot, for 
we had to turn aside to the Cartland Rocks, and our car 
was to meet us on the road. A guide attended us, who 
might almost in size, and certainly in activity, have been 
compared with William’s companion who hid himself in 
the niche of the cavern. His method of walking and very 
quick step soon excited our attention. I could hardly 
keep up with him ; he paddled by our side, just reaching to 
my shoulder, like a little dog, with his long snout pushed 
before him—for he had an enormous nose, and walked with 
his head foremost. I said to him, ‘ How quick you walk !’ 
he replied, ‘ That was not quick walking,’ and when I asked 


40 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


him what he called so, he said ‘ Five miles an hour/ and 
then related in how many hours he had lately walked from 
Lanerk to Edinburgh, done some errands, and returned to 
Lanerk—I have forgotten the particulars, but it was a 
very short time—and added that he had an old father who 
could walk at the rate of four miles an hour, for twenty- 
four miles, any day, and had never had an hour’s sickness 
in his life. ‘ Then/ said I, ‘ he has not drunk much strong 
liquor V ‘Yes, enough to drown him.’ From his eager 
manner of uttering this, I inferred that he himself was a 
drinker; and the man who met us with the car told 
William that he gained a great deal of money as an errand- 
goer, but spent it all in tippling. He had been a shoe¬ 
maker, but could not bear the confinement on account of a 
weakness in his chest. 

The neighbourhood of Lanerk is exceedingly pleasant; 
we came to a sort of district of glens or little valleys 
that cleave the hills, leaving a cheerful, open country 
above them, with no superior hills, but an undulating 
surface. Our guide pointed to the situation of the 
Cartland Crags. We were to cross a narrow valley, and 
walk down on the other side, and then we should be at 
the spot ; but the little fellow made a sharp turn down a 
footpath to the left, saying, ‘ We must have some conversa¬ 
tion here.’ He paddled on with his small pawing feet till we 
came right opposite to a gentleman’s house on the other 
side of the valley, when he halted, repeating some words, 
I have forgotten what, which were taken up by the most 
distinct echo I ever heard—this is saying little : it was the 
most distinct echo that it is possible to conceive. It 
shouted the names of our fireside friends in the very tone 
in which William and Coleridge spoke; but it seemed to 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


41 


make a joke of me, and I could not help laughing at my 
own voice, it was so shrill and pert, exactly as if some one 
had been mimicking it very successfully, with an intention 
of making me ridiculous. I wished Joanna 6 had been there 
to laugh, for the echo is an excellent laugher, and would 
have almost made her believe that it was a true story which 
William has told of her and the mountains. We turned 
back, crossed the valley, went through the orchard and 
plantations belonging to the gentleman’s house. By the 
bye, we observed to our guide that the echo must bring 
many troublesome visitors to disturb the quiet of the owner 
of that house, ‘ Oh no/ said he, ‘ he glories in much com¬ 
pany.’ He was a native of that neighbourhood, had made 
a moderate fortune abroad, purchased an estate, built the 
house, and raised the plantations; and further, had made 
a convenient walk through his woods to the Cartland Crags. 
The house was modest and neat, and though not adorned 
in the best taste, and though the plantations were of fir, we 
looked at it with great pleasure, there was such true 
liberality and kind-heartedness in leaving his orchard path 
open, and his walks unobstructed by gates. I hope this 
goodness is not often abused by plunderers of the apple- 
trees, which were hung with tempting apples close to the 
path. 

At the termination of the little valley, we descended 
through a wood along a very steep path to a muddy stream 
running over limestone rocks; turned up to the left along 
the bed of the stream, and soon we were closed in by rocks 
on each side. They were very lofty—of limestone, trees 
starting out of them, high and low, overhanging the 
stream or shooting up towards the sky. No place of the 
kind could be more beautiful if the stream had been clear, 


42 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


but it was of a muddy yellow colour; had it been a large 
river, one might have got the better of the unpleasantness 
of the muddy water in the grandeur of its roaring, the 
boiling up of the foam over the rocks, or the obscurity of 
its pools. 

We had been told that the Cartland Crags were better 
worth going to see than the Falls of the Clyde. I did not 
think so; but I have seen rocky dells resembling this 
before, with clear water instead of that muddy stream, and 
never saw anything like the Falls of the Clyde. It would 
be a delicious spot to have near one’s house; one would 
linger out many a day in the cool shade of the caverns, 
and the stream would soothe one by its murmuring; still, 
being an old friend, one would not love it the less for its 
homely face. Even we, as we passed along, could not help 
stopping for a long while to admire the beauty of the lazy 
foam, for ever in motion, and never moved away, in a still 
place of the water, covering the whole surface of it with streaks 
and lines and ever-varying circles. Wild marjoram grew 
upon the rocks in great perfection and beauty; our guide 
gave me a bunch, and said he should come hither to collect 
a store for tea for the winter, and that it was ‘ varra hale- 
some : ’ he drank none else. We walked perhaps half a 
mile along the bed of the river; but it might seem to be 
much further than it was, owing to the difficulty of the 
path, and the sharp and many turnings of the glen. Passed 
two of Wallace’s Caves. There is scarce a noted glen in 
Scotland that has not a cave for Wallace or some other 
hero. Before we left the river the rocks became less lofty, 
turned into a wood through which was a convenient path 
upwards, met the owner of the house and the echo-ground, 
and thanked him for the pleasure which he had provided 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


43 


for us and other travellers by making such pretty path¬ 
ways. 

It was four o’clock when we reached the place where the 
car was waiting. We were anxious to be off, as we had 
fifteen miles to go; but just as we were seating ourselves 
we found that the cushions were missing. William was 
forced to go back to the town, a mile at least, and Cole¬ 
ridge and I waited with the car. It rained, and we had 
some fear that the evening would be wet, but the rain soon 
ceased, though the sky continued gloomy—an unfortunate 
circumstance, for we had to travel through a beautiful 
country, and of that sort which is most set off by sunshine 
and pleasant weather. 

Travelled through the Vale or Trough of the Clyde, as it 
is called, for ten or eleven miles, having the river on our 
right. We had fine views both up and down the river for 
the first three or four miles, our road being not close to it, 
but above its banks, along the open country, which was 
here occasionally intersected by hedgerows. 

Left our car in the road, and turned down a field to the 
Fall of Stonebyres, another of the falls of the Clyde, 
which I had not heard spoken of; therefore it gave me 
the more pleasure. We saw it from the top of the bank 
of the river at a little distance. It has not the imposing 
majesty of Cora Linn; but it has the advantage of being 
left to itself, a grand solitude in the heart of a populous 
country. We had a prospect above and below it, of culti¬ 
vated grounds, with hay-stacks, houses, hills; but the river’s 
banks were lonesome, steep, and woody, with rocks near 
the fall. 

A little further on, came more into company with the 
river; sometimes we were close to it, sometimes above it, 


44 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


but always at no great distance; and now the vale became 
more interesting and amusing. It is very populous, with 
villages, hamlets, single cottages, or farm-houses embosomed 
in orchards, and scattered over with gentlemen’s houses, 
some of them very ugly, tall and obtrusive, others neat and 
comfortable. We seemed now to have got into a country 
where poverty and riches were shaking hands together; 
pears and apples, of which the crop was abundant, hung 
over the road, often growing in orchards unfenced; or 
there might be bunches of broom along the road-side in an 
interrupted line, that looked like a hedge till we came to 
it and saw the gaps. Bordering on these fruitful orchards 
perhaps would be a patch, its chief produce being gorse or 
broom. There was nothing like a moor or common any¬ 
where ; but small plots of uncultivated ground were left 
high and low, among the potatoes, corn, cabbages, which 
grew intermingled, now among trees, now bare. The 
Trough of the Clyde is, indeed, a singular and very inter¬ 
esting region; it is somewhat like the upper part of the 
vale of Nith, but above the Nith is much less cultivated 
ground—without hedgerows or orchards, or anything that 
looks like a rich country. We met crowds of people 
coming from the kirk; the lasses were gaily dressed, often 
in white gowns, coloured satin bonnets, and coloured silk 
handkerchiefs, and generally with their shoes and stockings 
in a bundle hung on their arm. Before we left the river the 
vale became much less interesting, resembling a poor English 
country, the fields being large, and unluxuriant hedges. 

It had been dark long before we reached Hamilton, and 
William had some difficulty in driving the tired horse 
through the town. At the inn they hesitated about being 
able to give us beds, the house being brim-full—lights at 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


45 


every window. We were rather alarmed for our accom¬ 
modations during the rest of the tour, supposing the house 
to be filled with tourists; but they were in general only 
regular travellers ; for out of the main road from town to 
town we saw scarcely a carriage, and the inns were 
empty. There was nothing remarkable in the treatment 
we met with at this inn, except the lazy impertinence of 
the waiter. It was a townish place, with a great larder set 
out ; the house throughout dirty. 

Monday, August 22 d .—Immediately after breakfast walked 
to the Duke of Hamilton’s house to view the picture-gallery, 
chiefly the famous picture of Daniel in the Lions’ Den, by 
Rubens. It is a large building, without grandeur, a heavy, 
lumpish mass, after the fashion of the Hopetoun H,* only 
five times the size, and with longer legs, which makes it 
gloomy. We entered the gate, passed the porter’s lodge, 
where we saw nobody, and stopped at the front door, as 
William had done two years before with Sir William Rush’s 
family. We were met by a little mean-looking man, shab¬ 
bily dressed, out of livery, who, we found, was the porter. 
After scanning us over, he told us that we ought not to 
have come to that door. We said we were sorry for the 
mistake, but as one of our party had been there two years 
before, and was admitted by the same entrance, we had 
supposed it was the regular way. After many hesitations, 
and having kept us five minutes waiting in the large hall, 
while he went to consult with the housekeeper, he informed 
us that we could not be admitted at that time, the house¬ 
keeper being unwell; but that we might return in an hour : 

* The house belonging to the Earls of Hopetoun at Leadhills, not that 
■which bears this name about twelve miles from Edinburgh.— Ed. 


46 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


he then conducted us through long gloomy passages to an 
obscure door at the corner of the house. We asked if we 
might be permitted to walk in the park in the meantime; 
and he told us that this would not be agreeable to the Duke’s 
family. We returned to the inn discontented enough, but 
resolved not to waste an hour, if there were anything else 
in the neighbourhood worth seeing. The waiter told us 
there was a curious place called Baroncleugh, with gardens 
cut out in rocks, and we determined to go thither. We had 
to walk through the town, which may be about as large as 
Penrith, and perhaps a mile further, along a dusty turnpike 
road. The morning was hot, sunny, and windy, and we 
were half tired before we reached the place; but were amply 
repaid for our trouble. 

The general face of the country near Hamilton is much 
in the ordinary English style; not very hilly, with hedge¬ 
rows, corn fields, and stone houses. The Clyde is here an 
open river with low banks, and the country spreads out so 
wide that there is no appearance of a regular vale. Baron¬ 
cleugh is in a beautiful deep glen through which runs the 
river Avon, a stream that falls into the Clyde. The house 
stands very sweetly in complete retirement; it has its gar¬ 
dens and terraces one above another, with flights of steps 
between, box-trees and yew-trees cut in fantastic shapes, 
flower-borders and summer-houses; and, still below, apples 
and pears were hanging in abundance on the branches of 
large old trees, which grew intermingled with the natural 
wood, elms, beeches, etc., even to the water’s edge. The 
whole place is in perfect harmony with the taste of our an¬ 
cestors, and the yews and hollies are shaven as nicely, and 
the gravel walks and flower-borders kept in as exact order, 
as if the spirit of the first architect of the terraces still pre- 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


47 


sided over them. The opposite hank of the river is left in 
its natural wildness, and nothing was to be seen higher up 
but the deep dell, its steep banks being covered with fine 
trees, a beautiful relief or contrast to the garden, which is 
one of the most elaborate old things ever seen, a little hang¬ 
ing garden of Babylon. 

I was sorry to hear that the owner of this sweet place 
did not live there always. He had built a small thatched 
house to eke out the old one : it was a neat dwelling, with 
no false ornaments. We were exceedingly sorry to quit 
this spot, which is left to nature and past times, and should 
have liked to have pursued the glen further up ; we were 
told that there was a ruined castle; and the walk itself 
must be very delightful; but we wished to reach Glasgow in 
good time, and had to go again to Hamilton House. Be- 
turned to the town by a much shorter road, and were very 
angry with the waiter for not having directed us to it; but 
he was too great a man to speak three words more than he 
could help. 

We stopped at the proper door of the Duke’s house, and 
seated ourselves humbly upon a bench, waiting the pleasure 
of the porter, who, after a little time, informed us that we 
could not be admitted, giving no reason whatever. When 
we got to the inn, we could just gather from the waiter that 
it was not usual to refuse admittance to strangers; but that 
was all: he could not, or would not, help us, so we were 
obliged to give it up, which mortified us, for I had wished 
much to see the picture. William vowed that he would 
write that very night to Lord Archibald Hamilton, stating 
the whole matter, which he did from Glasgow. 

I ought to have mentioned the park, though, as we were 
not allowed to walk there, we saw but little of it. It looked 


48 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


pleasant, as all parks with fine trees must be, but, as it 
seemed to be only a large, nearly level, plain, it could not 
be a particularly beautiful park, though it borders upon the 
Clyde, and the Avon runs, I believe, through it, after leav¬ 
ing the solitude of the glen of Baroncleugh. 

Quitted Hamilton at about eleven o’clock. There is 
nothing interesting between Hamilton and Glasgow till we 
came to Both well Castle, a few miles from Hamilton. The 
country is cultivated, but not rich, the fields large, a perfect 
contrast to the huddling together of hills and trees, corn 
and pasture grounds, hay-stacks, cottages, orchards, broom 
and gorse, but chiefly broom, that had amused us so much 
the evening before in passing through the Trough of the 
Clyde. A native of Scotland would not probably be satis¬ 
fied with the account I have given of the Trough of the 
Clyde, for it is one of the most celebrated scenes in Scot¬ 
land. We certainly received less pleasure from it than 
we had expected; but it was plain that this was chiefly 
owing to the unfavourable circumstances under which we 
saw it—a gloomy sky and a cold blighting wind. It is a 
very beautiful district, yet there, as in all the other scenes 
of Scotland celebrated for their fertility, we found some¬ 
thing which gave us a notion of barrenness, of what was not 
altogether genial. The new fir and larch plantations, here 
as in almost every other part of Scotland, contributed not 
a little to this effect. 

Crossed the Clyde not far from Hamilton, and had the 
river for some miles at a distance from us, on our left; but 
after having gone, it might be, three miles, we came to a 
porter’s lodge on the left side of the road, where we were 
to turn to Bothwell Castle, which is in Lord Douglas’s 
grounds. The woman who keeps the gate brought us a 


A TOUR IN' SCOTLAND. 


49 


book, in which we wrote down our names. Went about 
half a mile before we came to the pleasure-grounds. Came 
to a large range of stables, where we were to leave the car; 
but there was no one to unyoke the horse, so William was 
obliged to do it himself, a task which he performed very 
awkwardly, being then new to it. We saw the ruined 
castle embosomed in trees, passed the house, and soon 
found ourselves on the edge of a steep brow immediately 
above and overlooking the course of the river Clyde 
through a deep hollow between woods and green steeps. 
We had approached at right angles from the main road to 
the place over a flat, and had seen nothing before us but a 
nearly level country terminated by distant slopes, the Clyde 
hiding himself in his deep bed. It was exceedingly delight¬ 
ful to come thus unexpectedly upon such a beautiful region. 

The Castle stands nobly, overlooking the Clyde. When 
we came up to it I was hurt to see that flower-borders 
had taken place of the natural overgrowings of the ruin, 
the scattered stones and wild plants. It is a large and 
grand pile, of red freestone, harmonizing perfectly with 
the rocks of the river, from which, no doubt, it has been 
hewn. When I was a little accustomed to the unnatural¬ 
ness of a modern garden, I could not help admiring the 
excessive beauty and luxuriance of some of the plants, par¬ 
ticularly the purple-flowered clematis, and a broad-leaved 
creeping plant without flowers, which scrambled up the 
castle wall along with the ivy, and spread its vine-like 
branches so lavishly that it seemed to be in its natural 
situation, and one could not help thinking that, though 
not self-planted among the ruins of this country, it must 
somewhere have its natural abode in such places. If Both- 
well Castle had not been close to the Douglas mansion we 


50 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


should have been disgusted with the possessor’s miserable 
conception of ‘ adorning’ such a venerable ruin ; but it is 
so very near to the house that of necessity the pleasure- 
grounds must have extended beyond it, and perhaps the 
neatness of a shaven lawn and the complete desolation 
natural to a ruin might have made an unpleasing contrast; 
and besides, being within the precincts of the pleasure- 
grounds, and so very near to the modern mansion of a noble 
family, it has forfeited in some degree its independent 
majesty, and becomes a tributary to the mansion; its 
solitude being interrupted, it has no longer the same com¬ 
mand over the mind in sending it back into past times, or 
excluding the ordinary feelings which we bear about us in 
daily life. We had then only to regret that the castle and 
house were so near to each other; and it was impossible 
not to regret it; for the ruin presides in state over the 
river, far from city or town, as if it might have had a 
peculiar privilege to preserve its memorials of past ages 
and maintain its own character and independence for 
centuries to come. 

We sat upon a bench under the high trees, and had 
beautiful views of the different reaches of the river above 
and below. On the opposite bank, which is finely wooded 
with elms and other trees, are the remains of an ancient 
priory, built upon a rock : and rock and ruin are so blended 
together that it is impossible to separate the one from the 
other. Nothing can be more beautiful than the little rem¬ 
nants of this holy place; elm trees—for we were near enough 
to distinguish them by their branches—grow out of the walls, 
and overshadow a small but very elegant window. It can 
scarcely be conceived what a grace the castle and priory 
impart to each other; and the river Clyde flows on smooth 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


51 


and unruffled below, seeming to my thoughts more in har¬ 
mony with the sober and stately images of former times, 
than if it had roared over a rocky channel, forcing its sound 
upon the ear. It blended gently with the warbling of the 
smaller birds and chattering of the larger ones that had 
made their nests in the ruins. In this fortress the chief 
of the English nobility were confined after the battle of 
Bannockburn. If a man is to be a prisoner, he scarcely 
could have a more pleasant place to solace his captivity; 
but I thought that for close confinement I should prefer 
the banks of a lake or the sea-side. The greatest charm 
of a brook or river is in the liberty to pursue it through 
its windings; you can then take it in whatever mood you 
like ; silent or noisy, sportive or quiet. The beauties of a 
brook or river must be sought, and the pleasure is in going 
in search of them; those of a lake or of the sea come to 
you of themselves. These rude warriors cared little per¬ 
haps about either; and yet if one may judge from the 
writings of Chaucer and from the old romances, more inter¬ 
esting passions were connected with natural objects in the 
days of chivalry than now, though going in search of scenery, 
as it is called, had not then been thought of. I had heard 
nothing of Bothwell Castle, at least nothing that I remem¬ 
bered, therefore, perhaps, my pleasure was greater, compared 
with what I received elsewhere, than others might feel. 

At our return to the stables we found an inferior groom, 
who helped William to yoke the horse, and was very civil. 
We grew hungry before we had travelled many miles, and 
seeing a large public-house—it was in a walled court some 
yards from the road—Coleridge got off the car to inquire if 
we could dine there, and was told we could have nothing 
but eggs. It was a miserable place, very like a French 


52 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


house; indeed we observed, in almost every part of Scot¬ 
land, except Edinburgh, that we were reminded ten times 
of France and Germany for once of England. 

Saw nothing remarkable after leaving Bothwell, except 
the first view of Glasgow, at some miles distance, terminated 
by the mountains of Loch Lomond. The suburbs of 
Glasgow extend very far, houses on each side of the high¬ 
way,—all ugly, and the inhabitants dirty. The roads are 
very wide; and everything seems to tell of the neighbour¬ 
hood of a large town. We were annoyed by carts and dirt, 
and the road was full of people, who all noticed our car in one 
way or other; the children often sent a hooting after us. 

Wearied completely, we at last reached the town, and 
were glad to walk, leading the car to the first decent inn, 
which was luckily not far from the end of the town. 
William, who gained most of his road-knowledge from 
ostlers, had been informed of this house by the ostler at 
Hamilton; it proved quiet and tolerably cheap, a new 
building—the Saracen’s Head. I shall never forget how 
glad I was to be landed in a little quiet back-parlour, for 
my head was beating with the noise of carts which we had 
left, and the wearisomeness of the disagreeable objects near 
the highway; but with my first pleasant sensations also 
came the feeling that we were not in an English inn—partly 
from its half-unfurnished appearance, which is common in 
Scotland, for in general the deal wainscots and doors are 
unpainted, and partly from the dirtiness of the floors. 
Having dined, William and I walked to the post-office, and 
after much seeking found out a quiet timber-yard wherein 
to sit down and read our letter. We then walked a con¬ 
siderable time in the streets, which are perhaps as handsome 
as streets can be, which derive no particular effect from 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


53 


their situation in connexion with natural advantages, such 
as rivers, sea, or hills. The Trongate, an old street, 
is very picturesque—high houses, with an intermixture of 
gable fronts towards the street. The New Town is built of 
fine stone, in the best style of the very best London streets 
at the west end of the town, but, not being of brick, they 
are greatly superior. One thing must strike every stranger 
in his first walk through Glasgow—an appearance of business 
and bustle, but no coaches or gentlemen’s carriages; during 
all the time we walked in the streets I only saw three 
carriages, and these were travelling chaises. I also could 
not but observe a want of cleanliness in the appearance 
of the lower orders of the people, and a dulness in the 
dress and outside of the whole mass, as they moved 
along. We returned to the inn before it was dark. I had 
a bad headache, and was tired, and we all went to bed 
soon. 

Tuesday, August 23 d .—A cold morning. Walked to the 
bleaching-ground,* a large field bordering on the Clyde, the 
banks of which are perfectly flat, and the general face of 
the country is nearly so in the neighbourhood of Glasgow. 
This field, the whole summer through, is covered with 
women of all ages, children, and young girls spreading out 
their linen, and watching it while it bleaches. The scene 
must be very cheerful on a fine day, but it rained when we 
were there, and though there was linen spread out in all 
parts, and great numbers of women and girls were at work, 
yet there would have been many more on a fine day, and they 
would have appeared happy, instead of stupid and cheerless. 
In the middle of the field is a wash-house, whither the in- 

* Glasgow Green. 


54 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


habitants of this large town, rich and poor, send or carry 
their linen to be washed. There are two very large rooms, 
with each a cistern in the middle for hot water; and all 
round the rooms are benches for the women to set their tubs 
upon. Both the rooms were crowded with washers; there 
might be a hundred, or two, or even three; for it is not 
easy to form an accurate notion of so great a number; 
however, the rooms were large, and they were both full. 
It was amusing to see so many women, arms, head, and face 
all in motion, all busy in an ordinary household employ¬ 
ment, in which we are accustomed to see, at the most, only 
three or four women employed in one place. The women 
were very civil. I learnt from them the regulations of the 
house; but I have forgotten the particulars. The substance 
of them is, that ‘ so much * is to be paid for each tub of 
water, ‘ so much ’ for a tub, and the privilege of washing 
for a day, and, £ so much ’ to the general overlookers of the 
linen, when it is left to be bleached. An old man and 
woman have this office, who were walking about, two 
melancholy figures. 

The shops at Glasgow are large, and like London shops, 
and we passed by the largest coffee-room I ever saw. You 
look across the piazza of the Exchange, and see to the end 
of the coffee-room, where there is a circular window, the 
width of the room. Perhaps there might be thirty gentle¬ 
men sitting on the circular bench of the window, each 
reading a newspaper. They had the appearance of figures 
in a fantoccine, or men seen at the extremity of the opera- 
house, diminished into puppets. 

I am sorry I did not see the High Church : both William 
and I were tired, and it rained very hard after we had left 
the bleaching-ground; besides, I am less eager to walk in a 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


55 


large town than anywhere else; so we put it off, and I have 
since repented of my irresolution. 

Dined, and left Glasgow at about three o’clock, in a 
heavy rain. We were obliged to ride through the streets 
to keep our feet dry, and, in spite of the rain, every person 
as we went along stayed his steps to look at us; indeed, 
we had the pleasure of spreading smiles from one end of 
Glasgow to the other—for we travelled the whole length of 
the town. A set of schoolboys, perhaps there might be 
eight, with satchels over their shoulders, and, except one or 
two, without shoes and stockings, yet very well dressed in 
jackets and trousers, like gentlemen’s children, followed us 
in.great delight, admiring the car and longing to jump up. 
At last, though we were seated, they made several attempts 
to get on behind; and they looked so pretty and wild, and 
at the same time so modest, that we wished to give them 
a ride, and there being a little hill near the end of the 
town, we got off, and four of them who still remained, the 
rest having dropped into their homes by the way, took our 
places; and indeed I would have walked two miles willingly, 
to have had the pleasure of seeing them so happy. When 
they were to ride no longer, they scampered away, laughing 
and rejoicing. New houses are rising up in great numbers 
round Glasgow, citizen-like houses, and new plantations, 
chiefly of fir; the fields are frequently enclosed by hedge¬ 
rows, but there is no richness, nor any particular beauty for 
some miles. 

The first object that interested us was a gentleman’s 
house upon a green plain or holm, almost close to the Clyde, 
sheltered by tall trees, a quiet modest mansion, and, though 
white-washed, being an old building, and no other house 
near it, or in connexion with it, and standing upon the 


56 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


level field, which belonged to it, its own domain, the whole 
scene together brought to our minds an image of the 
retiredness and sober elegance of a nunnery; but this 
might be owing to the greyness of the afternoon, and our 
having come immediately from Glasgow, and through a 
country which, till now, had either had a townish taint, or 
at best little of rural beauty. While we were looking at 
the house we overtook a foot-traveller, who, like many 
others, began to talk about our car. We alighted to walk 
up a hill, and, continuing the conversation, the man told 
us, with something like a national pride, that it belonged 
to a Scotch Lord, Lord Semple ; he added, that a little 
further on we should see a much finer prospect, as fine a one 
as ever we had seen in our lives. Accordingly, when we 
came to the top of the hill, it opened upon us most magni¬ 
ficently. We saw the Clyde, now a stately sea-river, wind¬ 
ing away mile after mile, spotted with boats and ships, each 
side of the river hilly, the right populous with single houses 
and villages—Dunglass Castle upon a promontory, the 
whole view terminated by the rock of Dumbarton, at five 
or six miles distance, which stands by itself, without any 
hills near it, like a sea-rock. 

We travelled for some time near the river, passing 
through clusters of houses which seemed to owe their 
existence rather to the wealth of the river than the land, 
for the banks were mostly bare, and the soil appeared 
poor, even near the water. The left side of the river 
was generally uninhabited and moorish, yet there are 
some beautiful spots : for instance, a nobleman’s house,* 
where the fields and trees were rich, and, in combina¬ 
tion with the river, looked very lovely. As we went along 
* No doubt Erskine House, the seat of Lord Blantyre.— Ed. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


57 


William and I were reminded of the views upon the 
Thames in Kent, which, though greatly superior in rich¬ 
ness and softness, are much inferior in grandeur. Not far 
from Dumbarton, we passed under some rocky, copse- 
covered hills, which were so like some of the hills near 
Grasmere that we could have half believed they were the 
same. Arrived at Dumbarton before it was dark, having 
pushed on briskly that we might have start of a traveller 
at the inn, who was following us as fast as he could in a 
gig. Every front room was full, and we were afraid we 
should not have been admitted. They put us into a little 
parlour, dirty, and smelling of liquors, the table uncleaned, 
and not a chair in its place ; we were glad, however, of our 
sorry accommodations. 

While tea was preparing we lolled at our ease, and 
though the room-window overlooked the stable-yard, and 
at our entrance there appeared to be nothing but gloom 
and unloveliness, yet while I lay stretched upon the carriage 
cushions on three chairs, I discovered a little side peep 
which was enough to set the mind at work. It was no 
more than a smoky vessel lying at anchor, with its bare 
masts, a clay hut and the shelving bank of the river, with 
a green pasture above. Perhaps you will think that 
there is not much in this, as I describe it: it is true; but 
the effect produced by these simple objects, as they hap¬ 
pened to be combined, together with the gloom of the 
evening, was exceedingly wild. Our room was parted by 
a slender partition from a large dining-room, in which 
were a number of officers and their wives, who, after the 
first hour, never ceased singing, dancing, laughing, or loud 
talking. The ladies sang some pretty songs, a great relief 
to us. We went early to bed; but poor Coleridge could 


58 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


not sleep for the noise at the street door; he lay in the 
parlour below stairs. It is no uncommon thing in the best 
inns of Scotland to have shutting-up beds in the sitting- 
rooms. 

Wednesday, August 24 th .—As soon as breakfast was over, 
William and I walked towards the Castle, a short mile from 
the town. We overtook two young men, who, on our ask¬ 
ing the road, offered to conduct us, though it might seem 
it was not easy to miss our way, for the rock rises singly by it¬ 
self from the plain on which the town stands. The rock of 
Dumbarton is very grand when you are close to it, but at 
a little distance, under an ordinary sky, and in open day, it 
is not grand, but curiously wild. The castle and fortifica¬ 
tions add little effect to the general view of the rock, 
especially since the building of a modern house, which is 
white-washed, and consequently jars, wherever it is seen, 
with the natural character of the place. There is a path 
up to the house, but it being low water we could walk 
round the rock, which we resolved to do. On that side 
next the town green grass grows to a considerable height 
up the rock, but wherever the river borders upon it, it is 
naked stone. I never saw rock in nobler masses, or more 
deeply stained by time and weather; nor is this to be 
wondered at, for it is in the very eye of sea-storms and 
land-storms, of mountain winds and water winds. It is 
of all colours, but a rusty yellow predominates. As we 
walked along, we could not but look up continually, and 
the mass above being on every side so huge, it appeared 
more wonderful than when we saw the whole together. 

We sat down on one of the large stones which lie scattered 
near the base of the rock, with sea-weed growing amongst 


A TOUR TV SCOTLAND. 


59 


them. Above our heads the rock was perpendicular for a 
considerable height, nay, as it seemed, to the very top, and 
on the brink of the precipice a few sheep, two of them rams 
with twisted horns, stood, as if on the look-out over the wide 
country. At the same time we saw a sentinel in his red 
coat, walking backwards and forwards between us and the 
sky, with his firelock over his shoulder. The sheep, I sup¬ 
pose owing to our being accustomed to see them in similar 
situations, appeared to retain their real size, while, on the 
contrary, the soldier seemed to be diminished by the dis¬ 
tance till he almost looked like a puppet moved with wires 
for the pleasure of children, or an eight years’ old drummer 
in his stiff, manly dress beside a company of grenadiers. I 
had never before, perhaps, thought of sheep and men in 
soldiers’ dresses at the same time, and here they were 
brought together in a strange fantastic way. As will be 
easily conceived, the fearlessness and stillness of those quiet 
creatures, on the brow of the rock, pursuing their natural 
occupations, contrasted with the restless and apparently 
unmeaning motions of the dwarf soldier, added not a little 
to the general effect of this place, which is that of wild 
singularity, and the whole was aided by a blustering wind 
and a gloomy sky. Coleridge joined us, and we went up 
to the top of the rock. 

The road to a considerable height is through a narrow 
cleft, in which a flight of steps is hewn; the steps nearly 
fill the cleft, and on each side the rocks form a high and 
irregular wall; it is almost like a long sloping cavern, only 
that it is roofed by the sky. We came to the barracks; 
soldiers’ wives were hanging out linen upon the rails, while 
the wind beat about them furiously—there was nothing 
which it could set in motion but the garments of the 


60 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


women and the linen upon the rails; the grass—for we 
had now come to green grass—was close and smooth, and 
not one pile an inch above another, and neither tree nor 
shrub. The standard pole stood erect without a flag. The 
rock has two summits, one much broader and higher than 
the other. When we were near to the top of the lower 
eminence we had the pleasure of finding a little garden of 
flowers and vegetables belonging to the soldiers. There 
are three distinct and very noble prospects—the first up 
the Clyde towards Glasgow—Dunglass Castle, seen on its 
promontory—boats, sloops, hills, and many buildings; 
the second, down the river to the sea—Greenock and Port- 
Glasgow, and the distant mountains at the entrance of 
Loch Long; and the third extensive and distant view is 
up the Leven, which here falls into the Clyde, to the 
mountains of Loch Lomond. The distant mountains in 
all these views were obscured by mists and dingy clouds, 
but if the grand outline of any one of the views can be 
seen, it is sufficient recompence for the trouble of climbing 
the rock of Dumbarton. 

The soldier who was our guide told us that an old ruin 
which we came to at the top of the higher eminence had 
been a wind-mill—an inconvenient station, though certainly 
a glorious place for wind; perhaps if it really had been a 
wind-mill it was only for the use of the garrison. We 
looked over cannons on the battery-walls, and saw in an 
open field below the yeomanry cavalry exercising, while 
we could hear from the town, which was full of soldiers, 
‘ Dumbarton’s drums beat bonny, 0 ! ’ Yet while we stood 
upon this eminence, rising up so far as it does—inland, and 
having the habitual old English feeling of our own security 
as islanders—we could not help looking upon the fortress, 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


61 


in spite of its cannon and soldiers, and the rumours of in¬ 
vasion, as set up against the hostilities of wind and weather 
rather than for any other warfare. On our return we 
were invited into the guard-room, about half-way down 
the rock, where we were shown a large rusty sword, which 
they called Wallace’s Sword, and a trout boxed up in a well 
close by, where they said he had been confined for upwards 
of thirty years. For the pleasure of the soldiers, who were 
anxious that we should see him, we took some pains to 
spy him out in his black den, and at last succeeded. It 
was pleasing to observe how much interest the poor 
soldiers—though themselves probably new to the place 
—seemed to attach to this antiquated inhabitant of their 
garrison. 

When we had reached the bottom of the rock along the 
same road by which we had ascended, we made our way over 
the rough stones left bare by the tide, round the bottom 
of the rock, to the point where we had set off. This is a 
wild and melancholy walk on a blustering cloudy day : 
the naked bed of the river, scattered over with sea-weed; 
grey swampy fields on the other shore; sea-birds flying 
overhead; the high rock perpendicular and bare. We 
came to two very large fragments, which had fallen from 
the main rock; Coleridge thought that one of them was 
as large as Bowder-Stone,* William and I did not; but it is 
impossible to judge accurately; we probably, without know¬ 
ing it, compared them with the whole mass from which they 
had fallen, which, from its situation, we consider as one 
rock or stone, and there is no object of the kind for com¬ 
parison with the Bowder-Stone. When we leave the shore 

* A huge isolated rock in Borrowdale, Cumberland, "which hears that 
name.— Ed. 


62 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


of tlie Clyde grass begins to show itself on the rock; go a 
considerable way—still under the rock—along a flat field, 
and pass immediately below the white house, which where- 
ever seen looks so ugly. 

Left Dumbarton at about eleven o’clock. The sky was 
cheerless and the air ungenial, which we regretted, as we 
were going to Loch Lomond, and wished to greet the first 
of the Scottish lakes with our cheerfullest and best feelings. 
Crossed the Leven at the end of Dumbarton, and, when we 
looked behind, had a pleasing view of the town, bridge, and 
rock; but when we took in a reach of the river at the dis¬ 
tance of perhaps half a mile, the swamp ground, being so 
near a town, and not in its natural wildness, but seemingly 
half cultivated, with houses here and there, gave us an idea 
of extreme poverty of soil, or that the inhabitants were 
either indolent or miserable. We had to travel four miles 
on the banks of the ‘Water of Leven’ before we should 
come to Loch Lomond. Having expected a grand river 
from so grand a lake, we were disappointed ; for it appeared 
to me not to be very much larger than the Emont, and is 
not near so beautiful; but we must not forget that the day 
was cold and gloomy. Near Dumbarton it is like a river 
in a flat country, or under the influence of tides; but a little 
higher up it resembles one of our rivers, flowing through a 
vale of no extreme beauty, though prettily wooded; the 
hills on each side not very high, sloping backwards from 
the bed of the vale, which is neither very narrow nor very 
wide; the prospect terminated by Ben Lomond and other 
mountains. The vale is populous, but looks as if it were 
not inhabited by cultivators of the earth; the houses are 
chiefly of stone; often in rows by the river-side; they 
stand pleasantly, but have a tradish look, as if they might 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


63 


have been off-sets from Glasgow. We saw many bleach- 
yards, but no ,other symptom of a manufactory, except 
something in the houses that was not rural, and a want 
of independent comforts. Perhaps if the river had been 
glittering in the sun, and the smoke of the cottages rising 
in distinct volumes towards the sky, as I have seen in the 
vale or basin below Pillsden in Dorsetshire, when every 
cottage, hidden from the eye, pointed out its lurking-place 
by an upright wreath of white smoke, the whole scene 
might have excited ideas of perfect cheerfulness. 

Here, as on the Nith, and much more than in the Trough 
of the Clyde, a great portion of the ground was uncultivated, 
but the hills being less wild, the river more stately, and 
the ground not heaved up so irregularly and tossed about, 
the imperfect cultivation was the more to be lamented, 
particularly as there were so many houses near the river. 
In a small enclosure by the wayside is a pillar erected to 
the memory of Dr. Smollett, who was born in a village at 
a little distance, which we could see at the same time, and 
where, I believe, some of the family still reside. There is 
a long Latin inscription, which Coleridge translated for my 
benefit. The Latin is miserably bad*—as Coleridge said, 
such as poor Smollett, who was an excellent scholar, 
would have been ashamed of. 

Before we came to Loch Lomond the vale widened, and 
became less populous. We climbed over a wall into a large 
field to have a better front view of the lake than from the 
road. This view is very much like that from Mr. Clark¬ 
son’s windows : the mountain in front resembles Hallan; 

* The inscription on the pillar was written by Professor George Stuart 
of Edinburgh, John Ramsay of Ochtertyre, and Dr. Samuel Johnson ; for 
Dr. Johnson’s share in the work see Crolcer’s Boswell, p. 392.— Ed. 


64 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


indeed, is almost the same; but Ben Lomond is not seen 
standing in such majestic company as Helvellyn, and the 
meadows are less beautiful than Ulswater. The reach 
of the lake is very magnificent; you see it, as Ulswater is 
seen beyond the promontory of Old Church, winding away 
behind a large woody island that looks like a promontory. 
The outlet of the lake—we had a distinct view of it in the 
field—is very insignificant. The bulk of the river is frittered 
away by small alder bushes, as I recollect; I do not remember 
that it was reedy, but the ground had a swampy appearance; 
and here the vale spreads out wide and shapeless, as if the 
river were born to no inheritance, had no sheltering cradle, 
no hills of its own. As we have seen, this does not con¬ 
tinue long ; it flows through a distinct, though not a 
magnificent vale. But, having lost the pastoral character 
which it had in the youthful days of Smollett—if the de¬ 
scription in his ode to his native stream be a faithful one— 
it is less interesting than it was then. 

The road carried us sometimes close to the lake, some¬ 
times at a considerable distance from it, over moorish 
grounds, or through half-cultivated enclosures; we had the 
lake on our right, which is here so wide that the opposite 
hills, not being high, are cast into insignificance, and we 
could not distinguish any buildings near the water, if any 
there were. It is however always delightful to travel by 
a lake of clear waters, if you see nothing else but a very 
ordinary country; but we had some beautiful distant views, 
one in particular, down the high road, through a vista of 
over-arching trees ; and the near shore was frequently very 
pleasing, with its gravel banks, bendings, and small bays. 
In one part it was bordered for a considerable way by 
irregular groups of forest trees or single stragglers, which, 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


65 


although not large, seemed old; their branches were stunted 
and knotty, as if they had been striving with storms, and 
had half yielded to them. Under these trees we had a 
variety of pleasing views across the lake, and the very roll¬ 
ing over the road and looking at its smooth and beautiful 
surface was itself a pleasure. It was as smooth as a gravel 
walk, and of the bluish colour of some of the roads among 
the lakes of the north of England. 

Passed no very remarkable place till we came to Sir James 
Colquhoun’s house, which stands upon a large, flat, woody 
peninsula, looking towards Ben Lomond. There must be 
many beautiful walks among the copses of the peninsula, 
and delicious views over the water; but the general surface 
of the country is poor, and looks as if it ought to be rich 
and well peopled, for it is not mountainous; nor had we 
passed any hills which a Cumbrian would dignify with the 
name of mountains. There was many a little plain or 
gently-sloping hill covered with poor heath or broom with¬ 
out trees, where one should have liked to see a cottage in a 
bower of wood, with its patch of corn and potatoes, and a 
green field with a hedge to keep it warm. As we advanced 
we perceived less of the coldness of poverty, the hills not 
having so large a space between them and the lake. The 
surface of the hills being in its natural state, is always 
beautiful; but where there is only a half cultivated and 
half peopled soil near the banks of a lake or river, the idea 
is forced upon one that they who do live there have not 
much of cheerful enjoyment. 

But soon we came to just such a place as we had wanted 
to see. The road was close to the water, and a hill, bare, 
rocky, or with scattered copses rose above it. A deep shade 
hung over the road, where some little boys were at play; 

E 


66 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


we expected a dwelling-house of some sort; and when we 
came nearer, saw three or four thatched huts under the 
trees, and at the same mome'nt felt that it was a paradise. 
We had before seen the lake only as one wide plain of 
water; but here the portion of it which we saw was bounded 
by a high and steep, heathy and woody island opposite, 
which did not appear like an island, but the main shore, 
and framed out a little oblong lake apparently not so broad 
as Rydale-water, with one small island covered with trees, 
resembling some of the most beautiful of the holms of 
Windermere, and only a narrow river’s breadth from the 
shore. This was a place where we should have liked to 
have lived, and the only one we had seen near Loch Lomond. 
How delightful to have a little shed concealed under the 
branches of the fairy island! the cottages and the island 
might have been made for the pleasure of each other. It 
was but like a natural garden, the distance was so small; 
nay, one could not have forgiven any one living there, not 
compelled to daily labour, if he did not connect it with his 
dwelling by some feeling of domestic attachment, like what 
he has for the orchard where his children play. I thought, 
what a place for William ! he might row himself over with 
twenty strokes of the oars, escaping from the business of 
the house, and as safe from intruders, with his boat anchored 
beside him, as if he had locked himself up in the strong 
tower of a castle. We were unwilling to leave this sweet 
spot; but it was so simple, and therefore so rememberable, 
that it seemed almost as if we could have carried it away 
with us. It was nothing more than a small lake enclosed 
by trees at the ends and by the way-side, and opposite by 
the isjand, a steep bank on which the purple heath was 
seen under low oak coppice-wood, a group of houses over- 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


G7 


shadowed by trees, and a bending road. There was one 
remarkable tree, an old larch with hairy branches, which 
sent out its main stem horizontally across the road, an object 
that seemed to have been singled out for injury where every¬ 
thing else was lovely and thriving, tortured into that shape 
by storms, which one might have thought could not have 
reached it in that sheltered place. 

We were now entering into the Highlands. I believe 
Luss is the place where we were told that country begins; 
but at these cottages I would have gladly believed that we 
were there, for it was like a new region. The huts were 
after the Highland fashion, and the boys who were playing 
wore the Highland dress and philabeg. On going into a 
new country I seem to myself to waken up, and afterwards 
it surprises me to remember how much alive I have been 
to the distinctions of dress, household arrangements, etc. etc., 
and what a spirit these little things give to wild, barren, or 
ordinary places. The cottages are within about two miles 
of Luss. Came in view of several islands; but the lake 
being so very wide, we could see little of their peculiar 
beauties, and they, being large, hardly looked like islands. 

Passed another gentleman’s house, which stands prettily 
in a bay,* and soon after reached Luss, where we intended 
to lodge. On seeing the outside of the inn, we were glad 
that we were to have such pleasant quarters. It is a nice- 
looking white house, by the road-side; but there was not 
much promise of hospitality when we stopped at the door : 
no person came out till we had shouted a considerable time. 
A barefooted lass showed me up-stairs, and again my hopes 
revived; the house was clean for a Scotch inn, and the 
view very pleasant to the lake, over the top of the village 
* Camstraddan House and bay.— Ed. 


68 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


—a cluster of thatched houses among trees, with a large 
chapel in the midst of them. Like most of the Scotch kirks 
which we had seen, this building resembles a big house; but 
it is a much more pleasing building than they generally are, 
and has one of our rustic belfries, not unlike that at Amble- 
side, with two bells hanging in the open air. 7 We chose one 
of the back rooms to sit in, being more snug, and they looked 
upon a very sweet prospect—a stream tumbling down a cleft 
or glen on the hill-side, rocky coppice ground, a rural lane, 
such as we have from house to house at Grasmere, and a 
few out-houses. We had a poor dinner, and sour ale ; but 
as long as the people were civil we were contented. 

Coleridge was not well, so he did not stir out, but Wil¬ 
liam and I walked through the village to the shore of the 
lake. When I came close to the houses, I could not but 
regret a want of loveliness correspondent with the beauty 
of the situation and the appearance of the village at a little 
distance; not a single ornamented garden. We saw pota¬ 
toes and cabbages, but never a honeysuckle. Yet there 
were wild gardens, as beautiful as any that ever man 
cultivated, overgrowing the roofs of some of the cot¬ 
tages, flowers and creeping plants. How elegant were the 
wreaths of the bramble that had ‘built its own bower’ upon 
the riggins in several parts of the village; therefore we 
had chiefly to regret the want of gardens, as they are 
symptoms of leisure and comfort, or at least of no painful 
industry. Here we first saw houses without windows, the 
smoke coming out of the open window-places; the chimneys 
were like stools with four legs, a hole being left in the roof 
for the smoke, and over that a slate placed upon four 
sticks—sometimes the whole leaned as if it were going to 
fall. The fields close to Luss lie flat to the lake, and a 


A TOUR IN’ SCOTLAND. 


69 


river, as large as our stream near the church at Grasmere, 
flows by the end of the village, being the same which comes 
down the glen behind the inn; it is very much like our 
stream—beds of blue pebbles upon the shores. 

We walked towards the head of the lake, and from a 
large pasture field near Luss, a gentle eminence, had a very 
interesting view back upon the village and the lake and 
islands beyond. We then perceived that Luss stood in 
the centre of a spacious bay, and that close to it lay 
another small one, within the larger, where the boats of the 
inhabitants were lying at anchor, a beautiful natural har¬ 
bour. The islands, as we look down the water, are seen in 
great beauty. Inch-ta-vanach, the same that framed out 
the little peaceful lake which we had passed in the morn¬ 
ing, towers above the rest. The lake is very wide here, 
and the opposite shores not being lofty the chief part of 
the permanent beauty of this view is among the islands, 
and on the near shore, including the low promontories of 
the bay of Luss, and the village; and we saw it under its 
dullest aspect—the air cold, the sky gloomy, without a 
glimpse of sunshine. 

On a splendid evening, with the light of the sun diffused 
over the whole islands, distant hills, and the broad expanse 
of the lake, with its creeks, bays, and little slips of water 
among the islands, it must be a glorious sight. 

Up the lake there are no islands; Ben Lomond termi¬ 
nates the view, without any other large mountains; no 
clouds were upon it, therefore we saw the whole size and 
form of the mountain, yet it did not appear to me so 
large as Skiddaw does from Derwent-water. Continued 
our walk a considerable way towards the head of the lake, 
and went up a high hill, but saw no other reach of the 


70 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


water. The hills on the Luss side become much steeper, 
and the lake, having narrowed a little above Luss, was no 
longer a very wide lake where we lost sight of it. 

Came to a bark hut by the shores, and sate for some 
time under the shelter of it. While we were here a poor 
woman with a little child by her side begged a penny of 
me, and asked where she could 1 find quarters in the vil¬ 
lage/ She was a travelling beggar, a native of Scotland, 
had often 1 heard of that water/ but was never there 
before. This woman's appearance, while the wind was 
rustling about us, and the waves breaking at our feet, was 
very melancholy : the waters looked wide, the hills many, 
and dark, and far off—no house but at Luss. I thought 
what a dreary waste must this lake be to such poor crea¬ 
tures, struggling with fatigue and poverty and unknown 
ways! 

We ordered tea when we reached the inn, and desired 
the girl to light us a fire; she replied, ‘ I dinna ken 
whether she'll gie fire/ meaning her mistress. We told 
her we did not wish her mistress to give fire, we only 
desired her to let her make it and we would pay for it. 
The girl brought in the tea-things, but no fire, and when I 
asked if she was coming to light it, she said ‘ her mistress 
was not varra willing to gie fire.' At last, however, on our 
insisting upon it, the fire was lighted : we got tea by candle¬ 
light, and spent a comfortable evening. I had seen the 
landlady before we went out, for, as had been usual in all 
the country inns, there was a demur respecting beds, not¬ 
withstanding the house was empty, and there were at least 
half-a-dozen spare beds. Her countenance corresponded 
with the unkindness of denying us a fire on a cold night, 8 
for she was the most cruel and hateful-looking woman I 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


71 


ever saw. She was overgrown with fat, and was sitting 
with her feet and legs in a tub of water for the dropsy,— 
probably brought on by whisky-drinking. The sympathy 
which I felt and expressed for her, on seeing her in this 
wretched condition—for her legs were swollen as thick as 
mill-posts—seemed to produce no effect; and I was obliged, 
after five minutes’ conversation, to leave the affair of the 
beds undecided. Coleridge had some talk with her 
daughter, a smart lass in a cotton gown, with a bandeau 
round her head, without shoes and stockings. She told 
Coleridge with some pride that she had not spent all her 
time at Luss, but was then fresh from Glasgow. 

It came on a very stormy night; the wind rattled every 
window in the house, and it rained heavily. William and 
Coleridge had bad beds, in a two-bedded room in the gar¬ 
rets, though there were empty rooms on the first floor, and 
they were disturbed by a drunken man, who had come to 
the inn when we were gone to sleep. 

Thursday , August 2hth .—We were glad when we awoke 
to see that it was a fine morning—the sky was bright 
blue, with quick-moving clouds, the hills cheerful, lights 
and shadows vivid and distinct. The village looked ex¬ 
ceedingly beautiful this morning from the garret windows 
—the stream glittering near it, while it flowed under trees 
through the level fields to the lake. After breakfast, Wil¬ 
liam and I went down to the water-side. The roads 
were as dry as if no drop of rain had fallen, which added 
to the pure cheerfulness of the appearance of the village, 
and even of the distant prospect, an effect which I always 
seem to perceive from clearly bright roads, for they are 
always brightened by rain, after a storm; but when we 


72 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


came among the houses I regretted even more than last 
night, because the contrast was greater, the slovenliness and 
dirt near the doors; and could not but remember, with 
pain from the contrast, the cottages of Somersetshire, 
covered with roses and myrtle, and their small gardens of 
herbs and flowers. While lingering by the shore we began 
to talk with a man who offered to row us to Inch-ta-vanach; 
but the sky began to darken; and the wind being high, 
we doubted whether we should venture, therefore made no 
engagement; he offered to sell me some thread, pointing 
to his cottage, and added that many English ladies carried 
thread away from Luss. 

Presently after Coleridge joined us, and we determined to 
go to the island. I was sorry that the man who had been 
talking with us was not our boatman; William by some 
chance had engaged another. We had two rowers and a 
strong boat; so I felt myself bold, though there was a 
great chance of a high wind. The nearest point of Inch- 
ta-vanach is not perhaps more than a mile and a quarter 
from Luss; we did not land there, but rowed round the 
end, and landed on that side which looks towards our 
favourite cottages, and their own island, which, wherever 
seen, is still their own. It rained a little when we landed, 
and I took my cloak, which afterwards served us to sit 
down upon in our road up the hill, when the day grew 
much finer, with gleams of sunshine. This island belongs 
to Sir James Colquhoun, who has made a convenient road, 
that winds gently to the top of it. 

We had not climbed far before we were stopped by a 
sudden burst of prospect, so singular and beautiful that 
it was like a flash of images from another world. We 
stood with our backs to the hill of the island, which we 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


73 


were ascending, and which shut out Ben Lomond entirely, 
and all the upper part of the lake, and we looked towards 
the foot of the lake, scattered over with islands without 
beginning and without end. The sun shone, and the 
distant hills were visible, some through sunny mists, others 
in gloom with patches of sunshine; the lake was lost under 
the low and distant hills, and the islands lost in the lake, 
which was all in motion with travelling fields of light, or 
dark shadows under rainy clouds. There are many hills, 
but no commanding eminence at a distance to confine the 
prospect, so that the land seemed endless as the water. 

What I had heard of Loch Lomond, or any other place in 
Great Britain, had given me no idea of anything like what 
we beheld : it was an outlandish scene—we might have 
believed ourselves in North America. The islands were of 
every possible variety of shape and surface—hilly and level, 
large and small, bare, rocky, pastoral, or covered with wood. 
Immediately under my eyes lay one large flat island, bare 
and green, so flat and low that it scarcely appeared to rise 
above the water, with straggling peat-stacks and a single 
hut upon one of its out-shooting promontories—for it was of 
a very irregular shape, though perfectly flat. Another, its 
next neighbour, and still nearer to us, was covered over 
with heath and coppice-wood, the surface undulating, with 
flat or sloping banks towards the water, and hollow places, 
cradle-like valleys, behind. These two islands, with Inch- 
ta-vanach, where we were standing, were intermingled with 
the water, I might say interbedded and interveined with 
it, in a manner that was exquisitely pleasing. There were 
bays innumerable, straits or passages like calm rivers, land¬ 
locked lakes, and, to the main water, stormy promontories. 
The solitary hut on the flat green island seemed unsheltered 


74 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


and desolate, and yet not wholly so, for it was but a broad 
river’s breadth from the covert of the wood of the other 
island. Near to these is a miniature, an islet covered with 
trees, on which stands a small ruin that looks like the 
remains of a religious house ; it is overgrown with ivy, and 
were it not that the arch of a Avindow or gateway may be 
distinctly seen, it Avould be difficult to believe that it was 
not a tuft of trees groAving in the shape of a ruin, rather 
than a ruin overshadowed by trees. When we had walked 
a little further we saw below us, on the nearest large island, 
where some of the wood had been cut down, a hut, which 
we conjectured to be a bark hut. It appeared to be on 
the shore of a little forest lake, enclosed by Inch-ta-vanach, 
where Ave Avere, and the woody island on which the hut 
stands. 

Beyond we had the same intricate view as before, 
and could discover Dumbarton rock Avith its double head. 
There being a mist over it, it had a ghost-like appearance— 
as I observed to William and Coleridge, something like the 
Tor of Glastonbury from the Dorsetshire hills. Eight 
before us, on the flat island mentioned before, were several 
small single trees or shrubs, growing at different distances 
from each other, close to the shore, but some optical delu¬ 
sion had detached them from the land on which they stood, 
and they had the appearance of so many little vessels sailing 
along the coast of it. I mention the circumstance, because, 
with the ghostly image of Dumbarton Castle, and the 
ambiguous ruin on the small island, it was much in the 
character of the scene, which was throughout magical and 
enchanting—a new world in its great permanent outline 
and composition, and changing at every moment in every 
part of it by the effect of sun and wind, and mist and 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


75 


shower and cloud, and the blending lights and deep shades 
which took place of each other, traversing the lake in every 
direction. The whole was indeed a strange mixture of 
soothing and restless images, of images inviting to rest, 
and others hurrying the fancy away into an activity still 
more pleasing than repose. Yet, intricate and homeless, 
that is, without lasting abiding-place for the mind, as the 
prospect was, there was no perplexity; we had still a guide 
to lead us forward. 

Wherever we looked, it was a delightful feeling that 
there was something beyond. Meanwhile, the sense of 
quiet was never lost sight of; the little peaceful lakes 
among the islands might make you forget that the great 
water, Loch Lomond, was so near; and yet are more 
beautiful, because you know that it is so : they have their 
own bays and creeks sheltered within a shelter. When we 
had ascended to the top of the island we had a view up to 
Ben Lomond, over the long, broad water without spok or 
rock; and, looking backwards, saw the islands below us 
as on a map. This view, as may be supposed, was not 
nearly so interesting as those we had seen before. We 
hunted out all the houses on the shore, which were very 
few : there was the village of Luss, the two gentlemen’s 
houses, our favourite cottages, and here and there a hut; 
but I do not recollect any comfortable-looking farm-houses, 
and on the opposite shore not a single dwelling. The 
whole scene was a combination of natural wildness, loveli¬ 
ness, beauty, and barrenness, or rather bareness, yet not 
comfortless or cold; but the whole was beautiful. We 
were too far off the more distant shore to distinguish any 
particular spots which we might have regretted were not 
better cultivated, and near Luss there was no want of houses. 


76 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


After we had left the island, having been so much taken 
with the beauty of the bark hut and the little lake by 
which it appeared to stand, we desired the boatman to 
row us through it, and we landed at the hut. Walked 
upon the island for some time, and found out sheltered 
places for cottages. There were several woodman’s huts, 
which, with some scattered fir-trees, and others in irre¬ 
gular knots, that made a delicious murmuring in the wind, 
added greatly to the romantic effect of the scene. They 
were built in the form of a cone from the ground, like 
savages’ huts, the door being just large enough for a man 
to enter with stooping. Straw beds were raised on logs of 
wood, tools lying about, and a forked bough of a tree was 
generally suspended from the roof in the middle to hang a 
kettle upon. It was a place that might have been just 
visited by new settlers. I thought of Ruth and her 
dreams of romantic love : 

‘ And then he said how sweet it were, 

A fisher or a hunter there, 

A gardener in the shade, 

Still wandering with an easy mind, 

To build a household fire, and find 
A home in every glade.’ 

We found the main lake very stormy when we had left 
the shelter of the islands, and there was again a threaten¬ 
ing of rain, but it did not come on. I wanted much to go 
to the old ruin, but the boatmen were in a hurry to be at 
home. They told us it had been a stronghold built by a 
man who lived there alone, and was used to swim over 
and make depredations on the shore,—that nobody could 
ever lay hands on him, he was such a good swimmer, but 
at last they caught him in a net. The men pointed out to 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


77 


us an island belonging to Sir Janies Colquhoun, on which 
were a great quantity of deer. 

Arrived at the inn at about twelve o’clock, and prepared 
to depart immediately : we should have gone with great 
regret if the weather had been warmer and the inn more 
comfortable. When we were leaving the door, a party 
with smart carriage and servants drove up, and I observed 
that the people of the house were just as slow in their 
attendance upon them as on us, with one single horse and 
outlandish Hibernian vehicle. 

When we had travelled about two miles the lake be¬ 
came considerably narrower, the hills rocky, covered with 
copses, or bare, rising more immediately from the bed of 
the water, and therefore we had not so often to regret the 
want of inhabitants. Passed by, or saw at a distance, 
sometimes a single cottage, or two or three together, but 
the whole space between Luss and Tarbet is a. solitude 
to the eye. We were reminded of Ulswater, but missed 
the pleasant farms, and the mountains were not so in¬ 
teresting : we had not seen them in companies or brother¬ 
hoods rising one above another at a long distance. Ben 
Lomond stood alone, opposite to us, majestically overlook¬ 
ing the lake; yet there was something in this mountain 
which disappointed me,—a want of massiveness and sim¬ 
plicity, perhaps from the top being broken into three dis¬ 
tinct stages. The road carried us over a bold promontory 
by a steep and high ascent, and we had a long view of the 
lake pushing itself up in a narrow line through an avenue 
of mountains, terminated by the mountains at the head of 
the lake, of which Ben Lui, if I do not mistake, is the 
most considerable. The afternoon was showery and 
misty, therefore we did not see this prospect so distinctly 


78 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


as we could have wished, but there was a grand obscurity 
over it which might make the mountains appear more 
numerous. 

I have said so much of this lake that I am tired myself, 
and I fear I must have tired my friends. We had a 
pleasant journey to Tarbet; more than half of it on foot, 
for the road was hilly, and after we had climbed one small 
hill we were not desirous to get into the car again, seeing 
another before us, and our path was always delightful, near 
the lake, and frequently through woods. When we were 
within about half a mile of Tarbet, at a sudden turning 
looking to the left, we saw a very craggy-topped mountain 
amongst other smooth ones; the rocks on the summit 
distinct in shape as if they were buildings raised up by 
man, or uncouth images of some strange creature. We 
called out with one voice, ‘ That’s what we wanted! ’ 
alluding to the frame-like uniformity of the side-screens of 
the lake for the last five or six miles. As we conjectured, 
this singular mountain was the famous Cobbler, near Ar- 
rochar. Tarbet was before us in the recess of a deep, 
large bay, under the shelter of a hill. When we came up 
to the village we had to inquire for the inn, there being 
no signboard. It was a well-sized white house, the best 
in the place. We were conducted up-stairs into a sitting- 
room that might make any good-humoured travellers 
happy—a square room, with windows on each side, look¬ 
ing, one way, towards the mountains, and across the lake 
to Ben Lomond, the other. 

There was a pretty stone house before (i.e. towards the 
lake) some huts, scattered trees, two or three green fields 
with hedgerows, and a little brook making its way towards 
the lake; the fields are almost flat, and screened on that 


A TOUR IJV SCOTLAND. 


79 


side nearest the head of the lake by a hill, which, pushing 
itself out, forms the bay of Tarbet, and, towards the foot, 
by a gentle slope and trees. The lake is narrow, and Ben 
Lomond shuts up the prospect, rising directly from the 
water. We could have believed ourselves to be by the side 
of Ulswater, at Glenridden, or in some other of the in¬ 
habited retirements of that lake. We were in a sheltered 
place among mountains ; it was not an open joyous bay, 
with a cheerful populous village, like Luss; but a pastoral 
and retired spot, with a few single dwellings. The people 
of the inn stared at us when we spoke, without giving us 
an answer immediately, which we were at first disposed to 
attribute to coarseness of manners, but found afterwards 
that they did not understand us at once, Erse being the 
language spoken in the family. Nothing but salt meat 
and eggs for dinner—no potatoes ; the house smelt strongly 
of herrings, which were hung to dry over the kitchen fire. 

Walked in the evening towards the head of the lake; the 
road was steep over the hill, and when we had reached the 
top of it we had long views up and down the water. 
Passed a troop of women who were resting themselves by 
the roadside, as if returning from their day’s labour. 
Amongst them was a man, who had walked with us a con¬ 
siderable way in the morning, and told us he was just 
come from America, where he had been for some years,— 
was going to his own home, and should return to America. 
He spoke of emigration as a glorious thing for them who 
had money. Poor fellow! I do not think that he had 
brought much back with him, for he had worked his passage 
over: I much suspected that a bundle, which he carried 
upon a stick, tied in a pocket-handkerchief, contained his 
all. He was almost blind, he said, as were many of the 


80 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


crew. He intended crossing the lake at the ferry ; but it 
was stormy, and he thought he should not be able to get 
over that day. I could not help smiling when I saw him 
lying by the roadside with such a company about him, not 
like a wayfaring man, but seeming as much at home and 
at his ease as if he had just stepped out of his hut among 
them, and they had been neighbours all their lives. 9 Passed 
one pretty house, a large thatched dwelling with out-houses, 
but the prospect above and below was solitary. 

The sun had long been set before we returned to the 
inn. As travellers, we were glad to see the moon over the 
top of one of the hills, but it was a cloudy night, without 
any peculiar beauty or solemnity. After tea we made in¬ 
quiries respecting the best way to go to Loch Ketterine ; 
the landlord could give but little information, and nobody 
seemed to know anything distinctly of the place, though it 
was but ten miles off. We applied to the maid-servant 
who waited on us : she was a fine-looking young woman, 
dressed in a white bed-gown, her hair fastened up by a 
comb, and without shoes and stockings. When we asked 
her about the Trossachs she could give us no information, 
but on our saying, ‘Do you know Loch Ketterine V she 
answered with a smile, 1 1 should know that loch, for I was 
bred and born there/ After much difficulty we learned 
from her that the Trossachs were at the foot of the lake, 
and that by the way we were to go we should come upon 
them at the head, should have to travel ten miles to the 
foot* of the water, and that there was no inn by the way. 
The girl spoke English very distinctly; but she had few 

* This distinction between the foot and head is not very clear. What is 
meant is this : They would have to travel the whole length of the lake, 
from the west to the east end of it, before they came to the Trossachs, the 
pass leading away from the east end of the lake. — Ed. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


81 


words, and found it difficult to understand us. She did 
not much encourage us to go, because the roads were bad, 
and it was a long way, ‘and there was no putting-up 
for the like of us.’ We determined, however, to venture, 
and throw ourselves upon the hospitality of some cottager 
or gentleman. We desired the landlady to roast us a 
couple of fowls to carry with us. There are always plenty 
of fowls at the doors of a Scotch inn, and eggs are as 
regularly brought to table at breakfast as bread and 
butter. 

Friday, August 2 6th .—We did not set off till between 
ten and eleven o’clock, much too late for a long day’s journey. 
Our boatman lived at the pretty white house which we saw 
from the windows : we called at his door by the way, and, 
even when we were near the house, the outside looked 
comfortable; but within I never saw anything so miserable 
from dirt, and dirt alone : it reminded one of the house of 
a decayed weaver in the suburbs of a large town, with a 
sickly wife and a large family; but William says it was 
far worse, that it was quite Hottentotish. 

After long waiting, and many clumsy preparations, we 
got ourselves seated in the boat; but we had not floated 
five yards before we perceived that if any of the party—and 
there was a little Highland woman who was going over the 
water with us, the boatman, his helper, and ourselves— 
should stir but a few inches, leaning to one side or the 
other, the boat would be full in an instant, and we at the 
bottom ; besides, it was very leaky, and the woman was 
employed to lade out the water continually. It appeared 
that this crazy vessel was not the man’s own, and that his 
was lying in a bay at a little distance. He said he would 

F 


82 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


take us to it as fast as possible, but I was so much fright¬ 
ened I would gladly have given up the whole day’s 
journey ; indeed not one of us would have attempted to 
cross the lake in that boat for a thousand pounds. We 
reached the larger boat in safety after coasting a consider¬ 
able way near the shore, but just as we were landing, 
William dropped the bundle which contained our food into 
the water. The fowls were no worse, but some sugar, 
ground coffee, and pepper-cake seemed to be entirely 
spoiled. We gathered together as much of the coffee and 
sugar as we could and tied it up, and again trusted our¬ 
selves to the lake. The sun shone, and the air was calm 
—luckily it had been so while we were in the crazy boat 
—we had rocks and woods on each side of us, or bare hills; 
seldom a single cottage, and there was no rememberable 
place till we came opposite to a waterfall of no inconsider¬ 
able size, that appeared to drop directly into the lake : 
close to it was a hut, which we were told was the ferry- 
house. On the other side of the lake was a pretty farm 
under the mountains, beside a river, the cultivated grounds 
lying all together, and sloping towards the lake from the 
mountain hollow down which the river came. It is not 
easy to conceive how beautiful these spots appeared after 
moving on so long between the solitary steeps. 

We went a considerable way further, and landed at Rob 
Roy’s Caves, which are in fact no caves, but some fine 
rocks on the brink of the lake, in the crevices of which a 
man might hide himself cunningly enough; the water is 
very deep below them, and the hills above steep and 
covered with wood. The little Highland woman, who was 
in size about a match for our guide at Lanerk, accompanied 
us hither. There was something very gracious in the 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


83 


manners of this woman; she could scarcely speak five 
English words, yet she gave me, whenever I spoke to her, 
as many intelligible smiles as I had needed English words 
to answer me, and helped me over the rocks in the most 
obliging manner. She had left the boat out of good-will 
to us, or for her own amusement. She had never seen 
these caves before; but no doubt had heard of them, the 
tales of Rob Roy’s exploits being told familiarly round the 
‘ ingles ’ hereabouts, for this neighbourhood was his home. 
We landed at Inversneyde, the ferry-house by the water¬ 
fall, and were not sorry to part with our boatman, who 
was a coarse hard-featured man, and, speaking of the French, 
uttered the basest and most cowardly sentiments. His 
helper, a youth fresh from the Isle of Skye, was innocent 
of this fault, and though but a bad rower, was a far better 
companion ; he could not speak a word of English, and sang 
a plaintive Gaelic air in a low tone while he plied his oar. 

The ferry-house stood on the bank a few yards above the 
landing-place where the boat lies. It is a small hut under 
a steep wood, and a few yards to the right, looking towards 
the hut, is the waterfall. The fall is not very high, but 
the stream is considerable, as we could see by the large 
black stones that were lying bare, but the rains, if they 
had reached this place, had had little effect upon the water¬ 
fall ; its noise was not so great as to form a contrast with 
the stillness of the bay into which it falls, where the boat, and 
house, and waterfall itself seemed all sheltered and protected. 
The Highland woman was to go with us the two first miles 
of our journey. She led us along a bye foot-path a shorter 
way up the hill from the ferry-house. There is a consi¬ 
derable settling in the hills that border Loch Lomond, at 
the passage by which we were to cross to Loch Ketterine; 


84 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


Ben Lomond, terminating near the ferry-house, is on the 
same side of the water with it, and about three miles 
above Tarbet. 

We had to climb right up the hill, which is very steep, 
and, when close under it, seemed to be high, but we soon 
reached the top, and when we were there had lost sight of the 
lake; and now our road was over a moor, or rather through 
a wide moorland hollow. Having gone a little way, we 
saw before us, at the distance of about half a mile, a very 
large stone building, a singular structure, with a high wall 
round it, naked hill above, and neither field nor tree near; 
but the moor was not overgrown with heath merely, but 
grey grass, such as cattle might pasture upon. We could 
not conjecture what this building was; it appeared as if it 
had been built strong to defend it from storms; but for 
what purpose 1 William called out to us that we should 
observe that place well, for it was exactly like one of the 
spittals of the Alps, built for the reception of travellers, 
and indeed I had thought it must be so before he spoke. 
This building, from its singular structure and appearance, 
made the place, which is itself in a country like Scotland 
nowise remarkable, take a character of unusual wildness 
and desolation—this when we first came in view of it; and 
afterwards, when we had passed it and looked back, three 
pyramidal mountains on the opposite side of Loch Lomond 
terminated the view, which under certain accidents of 
- weather must be very grand. Our Highland companion 
had not English enough to give us any information con¬ 
cerning this strange building; we could only get from her 
that it was a ‘ large house/ which was plain enough. 

We walked about a mile and a half over the moor with¬ 
out seeing any other dwelling but one hut by the burn-side, 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


85 


with a peat-stack and a ten-yards’-square enclosure for 
potatoes; then we came to several clusters of houses, even 
hamlets they might be called, but where there is any land 
belonging to the Highland huts there are so many out¬ 
buildings near, which differ in no respect from the dwelling- 
houses except that they send out no smoke, that one house 
looks like two or three. Near these houses was a consi¬ 
derable quantity of cultivated ground, potatoes and corn, 
and the people were busy making hay in the hollow places 
of the open vale, and all along the sides of the becks. It 
was a pretty sight altogether—men and women, dogs, the 
little running streams, with linen bleaching near them, and 
cheerful sunny hills and rocks on every side. We passed 
by one patch of potatoes that a florist might have 
been proud of; no carnation-bed ever looked more gay 
than this square plot of ground on the waste common. 
The flowers were in very large bunches, and of an extra¬ 
ordinary size, and of every conceivable shade of colouring 
from snow-white to deep purple. It was pleasing in that 
place, where perhaps was never yet a flower cultivated by 
man for his own pleasure, to see these blossoms grow more 
gladly than elsewhere, making a summer garden near the 
mountain dwellings. 

At one of the clusters of houses we parted with our 
companion, who had insisted on bearing my bundle while 
she stayed with us. I often tried to enter into conversa¬ 
tion with her, and seeing a small tarn before us, was re¬ 
minded of the pleasure of fishing and the manner of living 
there, and asked her what sort of food was eaten in that 
place, if they lived much upon fish, or had mutton from the 
hills; she looked earnestly at me, and shaking her head, 
replied, ‘ Oh yes! eat fish—no papistes, eat everything.’ 


86 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


The tarn had one small island covered with wood; the 
stream that runs from it falls into Loch Ketterine, which, 
after we had gone a little beyond the tarn, we saw at some 
distance before us. 

Pursued the road, a mountain horse-track, till we came 
to a corner of what seemed the head of the lake, and there 
sate down completely tired, and hopeless as to the rest of 
our journey. The road ended at the shore, and no houses 
were to be seen on the opposite side except a few widely 
parted huts, and on the near side was a trackless heath. 
The land at the head of the lake was but a continuation of 
the common we had come along, and was covered with 
heather, intersected by a few straggling foot-paths. 

Coleridge and I were faint with hunger, and could go no 
further till we had refreshed ourselves, so we ate up one of 
our fowls, and drank of the water of Loch Ketterine; but 
William could not be easy till he had examined the coast, 
so he left us, and made his way along the moor across the 
head of the lake. Coleridge and I, as we sate, had what 
seemed to us but a dreary prospect—a waste of unknown 
ground which we guessed we must travel over before it was 
possible for us to find a shelter. We saw a long way down 
the lake; it was all moor on the near side; on the other 
the hills were steep from the water, and there were large 
coppice-woods, but no cheerful green fields, and no road 
that we could see; we knew, however, that there must be 
a road from house to house ; but the whole lake appeared 
a solitude—neither boats, islands, nor houses, no grandeur 
in the hills, nor any loveliness in the shores. When we 
first came in view of it we had said it was like a barren Uls- 
water—Ulswater dismantled of its grandeur, and cropped 
of its lesser beauties. When I had swallowed my dinner 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


87 


I hastened after William, and Coleridge followed me. 
Walked through the heather with some labour for perhaps 
half a mile, and found William sitting on the top of a small 
eminence, whence we saw the real head of the lake, which 
was pushed up into the vale a considerable way beyond the 
promontory where we now sate. The view up the lake 
was very pleasing, resembling Thirlemere below Armath. 
There were rocky promontories and woody islands, and, 
what was most cheering to us, a neat white house on the 
opposite shore; but we could see no boats, so, in order to 
get to it we should be obliged to go round the head of the 
lake, a long and weary way. 

After Coleridge came up to us, while we were debating 
whether we should turn back or go forward, we espied a 
man on horseback at a little distance, with a boy following 
him on foot, no doubt a welcome sight, and we hailed him. 
We should have been glad to have seen either man, woman, 
or child at this time, but there was something uncommon 
and interesting in this man’s appearance, which would have 
fixed our attention wherever we had met him. He was a 
complete Highlander in dress, figure, and face, and a very 
fine-looking man, hardy and vigorous, though past his prime. 
While he stood waiting for us in his bonnet and plaid, 
which never look more graceful than on horseback, I forgot 
our errand, and only felt glad that we were in the High¬ 
lands. William accosted him with, ‘Sir, do you speak 
English V He replied, ‘A little.’ He spoke however, 
sufficiently well for our purpose, and very distinctly, as all 
the Highlanders do who learn English as a foreign language; 
but in a long conversation they want words; he informed 
us that he himself was going beyond the Trossachs, to 
Callander, that no boats were kept to ‘let;’ but there were 


88 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


two gentlemen’s houses at this end of the lake, one of which 
we could not yet see, it being hidden from us by a part of 
the hill on which we stood. The other house was that 
which we saw opposite to us; both the gentlemen kept 
boats, and probably might be able to spare one of their 
servants to go with us. After we had asked many 
questions, which the Highlander answered with patience 
and courtesy, he parted from us, going along a sort of horse- 
track, which a foot-passenger, if he once get into it, need 
not lose if he be careful. 

When he was gone we again debated whether we should 
go back to Tarbet, or throw ourselves upon the mercy of 
one of the two gentlemen for a night’s lodging. What we 
had seen of the main body of the lake made us little desire 
to see more of it; the Highlander upon the naked heath, 
in his Highland dress, upon his careful-going horse, with 
the boy following him, was worth it all; but after a little 
while we resolved to go on, ashamed to shrink from an 
adventure. Pursued the horse-track, and soon came in 
sight of the other gentleman’s house, which stood on the 
opposite side of the vale, a little above the lake. It was a 
white house; no trees near it except a new plantation of 
firs; but the fields were green, sprinkled over with hay¬ 
cocks, and the brook which comes down the valley and falls 
into the lake ran through them. It was like a new-made 
farm in a mountain vale, and yet very pleasing after the 
depressing prospect which had been before us. 

Our road was rough, and not easy to be kept. It was 
between five and six o’clock when we reached the brook 
side, where Coleridge and I stopped, and William went up 
towards the house, which was in a field, where about half a 
dozen people were at work. He addressed himself to one 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


89 


who appeared like the master, and all drew near him, staring 
at William as nobody could have stared but out of sheer 
rudeness, except in such a lonely place. He told his tale, 
and inquired about boats ; there were no boats, and no lodg¬ 
ing nearer than Callander, ten miles beyond the foot of the 
lake. A laugh was on every face when William said we 
were come to see the Trossachs; no doubt they thought 
we had better have stayed at our own homes. William 
endeavoured to make it appear not so very foolish, by in¬ 
forming them that it was a place much celebrated in Eng¬ 
land, though perhaps little thought of by them, and that we 
only differed from many of our countrymen in having come 
the wrong way in consequence of an erroneous direction. 

After a little time the gentleman said we should be 
accommodated with such beds as they had, and should be 
welcome to rest in their house if we pleased. William came 
back for Coleridge and me; the men all stood at the door 
to receive us, and now their behaviour was perfectly 
courteous. We were conducted into the house by the same 
man who had directed us hither on the other side of the 
lake, and afterwards we learned that he was the father of 
our hostess. He showed us into a room up-stairs, begged 
we would sit at our ease, walk out, or do just as we pleased. 
It was a large square deal wainscoted room, the wains¬ 
cot black with age, yet had never been painted : it did 
not look like an English room, and yet I do not know in 
what it differed, except that in England it is not common 
to see so large and well-built a room so ill-furnished : there 
were two or three large tables, and a few old chairs of 
different sorts, as if they had been picked up one did not 
know how, at sales, or had belonged to different rooms of 
the house ever since it was built. We sat perhaps three- 


90 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


quarters of an hour, and I was about to carry down our wet 
coffee and sugar and ask leave to boil it, when the mistress 
of the house entered, a tall fine-looking woman, neatly 
dressed in a dark-coloured gown, with a white handkerchief 
tied round her head ; she spoke to us in a very pleasing 
manner, begging permission to make tea for us, an offer 
which we thankfully accepted. Encouraged by the sweet¬ 
ness of her manners, I went down-stairs to dry my feet by 
the kitchen fire; she lent me a pair of stockings, and 
behaved to me with the utmost attention and kindness. 
She carried the tea-things into the room herself, leaving 
me to make tea, and set before us cheese and butter and 
barley cakes. These cakes are as thin as our oat-bread, 
but, instead of being crisp, are soft and leathery, yet we, 
being hungry, and the butter delicious, ate them with great 
pleasure, but when the same bread was set before us 
afterwards we did not like it. 

After tea William and I walked out; we amused our¬ 
selves with watching the Highlanders at work : they went 
leisurely about everything, and whatever was to be done, 
all followed, old men, and young, and little children. 
We were driven into the house by a shower, which came 
on with the evening darkness, and the people leaving 
their work paused at the same time. I was pleased to 
see them a while after sitting round a blazing fire in 
the kitchen, father and son-in-law, master and man, and 
the mother with her little child on her knee. When I 
had been there before tea I had observed what a contrast 
there was between the mistress and her kitchen; she did 
not differ in appearance from an English country lady; but 
her kitchen, roof, walls, and floor of mud, was all black 
alike; yet now, with the light of a bright fire upon so 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


91 


many happy countenances, the whole room made a pretty 
sight. 

We heard the company laughing and talking long after 
we were in bed ; indeed I believe they never work till they 
are tired. The children could not speak a word of English: 
they were very shy at first; but after I had caressed the 
eldest, and given her a red leather purse, with which she 
was delighted, she took hold of my hand and hung about 
me, changing her side-long looks for pretty smiles. Her 
mother lamented they were so far from school, they should 
be obliged to send the children down into the Lowlands to 
be taught reading and English. Callander, the nearest 
town, was twenty miles from them, and it was only a small 
place : they had their groceries from Glasgow. She said 
that at Callander was their nearest church, but sometimes 
1 got a preaching at the Garrison/ In explaining herself she 
informed us that the large building which had puzzled us 
in the morning had been built by Government, at the 
request of one of the Dukes of Montrose, for the defence of 
his domains against the attacks of Rob Roy. I will not 
answer for the truth of this; perhaps it might have been 
built for this purpose, and as a check on the Highlands in 
general; certain it is, however, that it was a garrison; 
soldiers used to be constantly stationed there, and have 
only been withdrawn within the last thirteen or fourteen 
years. Mrs. Macfarlane attended me to my room; she said 
she hoped I should be able to sleep upon blankets, and said 
they were ‘ fresh from the fauld.’ 

Saturday , August 27th. —Before I rose, Mrs. Macfarlane 
came into my room to see if I wanted anything, and told 
me she should send the servant up with a basin of whey, 


92 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


saying, ‘We make very good whey in this countryindeed, 
I thought it the best I had ever tasted; but I cannot tell 
how this should be, for they only make skimmed-milk 
cheeses. I asked her for a little bread and milk for our 
breakfast, but she said it would be no trouble to make tea, 
as she must make it for the family; so we all breakfasted 
together. The cheese was set out, as before, with plenty 
of butter and barley-cakes, and fresh baked oaten cakes, 
which, no doubt, were made for us : they had been kneaded 
with cream, and were excellent. All the party pressed us 
to eat, and were very jocose about the necessity of helping 
out their coarse bread with butter, and they themselves 
ate almost as much butter as bread. In talking of the 
French and the present times, their language was what 
most people would call Jacobinical. They spoke much of 
the oppressions endured by the Highlanders further up, of 
the absolute impossibility of their living in any comfort, 
and of the cruelty of laying so many restraints on emigra¬ 
tion. Then they spoke with animation of the attachment 
of the clans to their lairds : ‘ The laird of this place, Glen- 
gyle, where we live, could have commanded so many men 
who would have followed him to the death; and now 
there are none left.’ It appeared that Mr. Macfarlane, 
and his wife’s brother, Mr. Macalpine, farmed the place, 
inclusive of the whole vale upwards to the mountains, and 
the mountains themselves, under the lady of Glengyle, the 
mother of the young laird, a minor. It was a sheep-farm. 

Speaking of another neighbouring laird, they said he had 
gone, like the rest of them, to Edinburgh, left his lands 
and his own people, spending his money where it brought 
him not any esteem, so that he was of no value either at 
home or abroad. We mentioned Rob Roy, and the eyes 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


93 


of all glistened; even the lady of the house, who was very 
diffident, and no great talker, exclaimed, ‘ He was a good 
man, Rob Roy! he had been dead only about eighty years, 
had lived in the next farm, which belonged to him, and 
there his bones were laid.’* He was a famous swordsman. 
Having an arm much longer than other men, he had a 
greater command with his sword. As a proof of the length 
of his arm, they told us that he could garter his tartan 
stockings below the knee without stooping, and added a 
dozen different stories of single combats, which he had 
fought, all in perfect good-humour, merely to prove his 
prowess. I daresay they had stories of this kind which 
would hardly have been exhausted in the long evenings of 
a whole December week, Rob Roy being as famous here as 
ever Robin Hood was in the Forest of Sherwood; he also 
robbed from the rich, giving to the pbor, and defending 
them from oppression. They tell of his confining the 
factor of the Duke of Montrose in one of the islands of 
Loch Ketterine, after having taken his money from him— 
the Duke’s rents—in open day, while they were sitting at 
table. He was a formidable enemy of the Duke, but 
being a small laird against a greater, was overcome at last, 
and forced to resign all his lands on the Braes of Loch 
Lomond, including the caves which we visited, on account 
of the money he had taken from the Duke and could not 
repay. 

* There is a mistake here. His bones were laid about fifteen or 
twenty miles from thence, in Balquhidder kirkyard. But it was under 
the belief that his ‘ grave is near the head of Loch Ketterine, in one of 
those pinfold-like burial grounds, of neglected and desolate appearance, 
which the traveller meets with in the Highlands of Scotland,’ that the well- 
known poem on ‘ Rob Roy’s Grave’ was composed. See Note 14 at the 
end of volume.— Ed. 


94 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


When breakfast was ended the mistress desired the per¬ 
son whom we took to be her husband to ‘ return thanks/ 
He said a short grace, and in a few minutes they all went 
off to their work. We saw them about the door following 
one another like a flock of sheep, with the children after, 
whatever job they were engaged in. Mrs. Macfarlane told 
me she would show me the burying-place of the lairds of 
Glengyle, and took me to a square enclosure like a pinfold, 
with a stone ball at every corner; we had noticed it the 
evening before, and wondered what it could be. It was in 
the middle of a ‘ planting/ as they call plantations, which 
was enclosed for the preservation of the trees, therefore we 
had to climb over a high wall: it was a dismal spot, con¬ 
taining four or five graves overgrown with long grass, 
nettles, and brambles. Against the, wall was a marble 
monument to the -memory of one of the lairds, of whom 
they spoke with veneration : some English verses were 
inscribed upon the marble, purporting that he had been 
the father of his clan, a brave and good man. When we 
returned to the house she said she would show me what 
curious feathers they had in their country, and brought out 
a bunch carefully wrapped up in paper. On my asking her 
what bird they came from, £ Oh ! ’ she replied, ‘ it is a great 
beast/ We conjectured it was an eagle, and from her de¬ 
scription of its ways, and the manner of destroying it, we 
knew it was so. She begged me to accept of some of the 
feathers, telling me that some ladies wore them in their 
heads. I was much pleased with the gift, which I shall 
preserve in memory of her kindness and simplicity of man¬ 
ners, and the Highland solitude where she lived. 

We took leave of the family with regret : they were 
handsome, healthy, and happy-looking people. It was ten 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


95 


o’clock when we departed. We had learned that there was 
a ferry-boat kept at three miles’ distance, and if the man 
was at home he would row us down the lake to the Trossachs. 
Our walk was mostly through coppice-woods, along a horse- 
road, upon which narrow carts might travel. Passed that 
white house which had looked at us with such a friendly 
face when we were on the other side ; it stood on the slope 
of a hill, with green pastures below it, plots of corn and 
coppice-wood, and behind, a rocky steep covered with wood. 
It was a very pretty place, but the morning being cold and 
dull the opposite shore appeared dreary. Near to the white 
house we passed by another of those little pinfold squares, 
which we knew to be a burying-place; it was in a sloping 
green field among woods, and within sound of the beating 
of the water against the shore, if there were but a gentle 
breeze to stir it: I thought if I lived in that house, and 
my ancestors and kindred were buried there, I should sit 
many an hour under the walls of this plot of earth, where 
all the household would be gathered together. 

We found the ferryman at work in the field above his 
hut, and he was at liberty to go with us, but, being wet 
and hungry, we begged that he would let us sit by his fire 
till we had refreshed ourselves. This was the first genuine 
Highland hut we had been in. We entered by the cow¬ 
house, the house-door being within, at right angles to the 
outer door. The woman was distressed that she had a bad 
fire, but she heaped up some dry peats and heather, and, 
blowing it with her breath, in a short time raised a blaze 
that scorched us into comfortable feelings. A small part 
of the smoke found its way out of the hole of the chimney, 
the rest through the open window-places, one of which 
was within the recess of the fireplace, and made a frame 


96 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


to a little picture of the restless lake and the opposite shore, 
seen when the outer door was open. The woman of the 
house was very kind : whenever we asked her for anything 
it seemed a fresh pleasure to her that she had it for us ; 
she always answered with a sort of softening down of the 
Scotch exclamation, ‘Hoot!’ ‘ Ho ! yes, ye ’ll get that,’ and 
hied to her cupboard in the spence. We were amused with 
the phrase ‘ Ye ’ll get that ’ in the Highlands, which ap¬ 
peared to us as if it came from a perpetual feeling of the 
difficulty with which most things are procured. We got 
oatmeal, butter, bread and milk, made some porridge, and 
then departed. It was rainy and cold, with a strong wind. 

Coleridge was afraid of the cold in the boat, so he deter¬ 
mined to walk down the lake, pursuing the same road we 
had come along. There was nothing very interesting for 
the first three or four miles on either side of the water : 
to the right, uncultivated heath or poor coppice-wood, and 
to the left, a scattering of meadow ground, patches of corn, 
coppice-woods, and here and there a cottage. The wind 
fell, and it began to rain heavily. On this William wrapped 
himself in the boatman’s plaid, and lay at the bottom of 
the boat till we came to a place where I could not help 
rousing him. 

We were rowing down that side of the lake which had 
hitherto been little else than a moorish ridge. After turn¬ 
ing a rocky point we came to a bay closed in by rocks and 
steep woods, chiefly of full-grown birch. The lake was 
elsewhere ruffled, but at the entrance of this bay the breezes 
sunk, and it was calm: a small island was near, and the 
opposite shore, covered with wood, looked soft through 
the misty rain. William, rubbing his eyes, for he had 
been asleep, called out that he hoped I had not let him 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


97 


pass by anything that was so beautiful as this; and I was 
glad to tell him that it was but the beginning of a new 
land. After we had left this bay we saw before us a long 
reach of woods and rocks and rocky points, that promised 
other bays more beautiful than what we had passed. The 
ferryman was a good-natured fellow, and rowed very in¬ 
dustriously, following the ins and outs of the shore; he 
was delighted with the pleasure we expressed, continually 
repeating how pleasant it would have been on a fine day. 
I believe he was attached to the lake by some sentiment of 
pride, as his own domain—his being almost the only boat 
upon it—which made him, seeing we were willing gazers, 
take far more pains than an ordinary boatman; he would 
often say, after he had compassed the turning of a point, 
* This is a bonny part,’ and he always chose the bonniest, 
with greater skill than our prospect-hunters and ‘ pictur¬ 
esque travellers; ’ places screened from the winds—that 
was the first point; the rest followed of course,—richer 
growing trees, rocks and banks, and curves which the eye 
delights in. 

The second bay we came to differed from the rest; the 
hills retired a short space from the lake, leaving a few 
level fields between, on which was a cottage embosomed 
in trees : the bay was defended by rocks at each end, and 
the hills behind made a shelter for the cottage, the only 
dwelling, I believe, except one, on this side of Loch Ket- 
terine. We now came to steeps that rose directly from 
the lake, and passed by a place called in the Gaelic the Den 
of the Ghosts,* which reminded us of Lodore; it is a rock, 
or mass of rock, with a stream of large black stones like 
the naked or dried-up bed of a torrent down the side of it; 

* Goblins’ Cave. 

G 


98 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


birch-trees start out of the rock in every direction, and 
cover the hill above, further than we could see. The 
water of the lake below was very deep, black and calm. 
Our delight increased as we advanced, till we came in view 
of the termination of the lake, seeing where the river 
issues out of it through a narrow chasm between the hills. 

Here I ought to rest, as we rested, and attempt to give 
utterance to our pleasure; but indeed I can impart but 
little of what we felt. We were still on the same side of 
the water, and, being immediately under the hill, within a 
considerable bending of the shore, we were enclosed by 
hills all round, as if we had been upon a smaller lake of 
which the whole was visible. It was an entire solitude; 
and all that we beheld was the perfection of loveliness and 
beauty. 

We had been through many solitary places since we 
came into Scotland, but this place differed as much from 
any we had seen before as if there had been nothing 
in common between them : no thought of dreariness or 
desolation found entrance here; yet nothing was to be 
seen but water, wood, rocks, and heather, and bare moun¬ 
tains above. We saw the mountains by glimpses as the 
clouds passed by them, and were not disposed to regret, 
with our boatman, that it was not a fine day, for the near 
objects were not concealed from us, but softened by being 
seen through the mists. The lake is not very wide here, 
but appeared to be much narrower than it really is, owing 
to the many promontories, which are pushed so far into it 
that they are much more like islands than promontories. 
We had a longing desire to row to the outlet and look up 
into the narrow passage through which the river went; 
but the point where we were to land was on the other side, 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


99 


so we bent our course right across, and just as we came in 
sight of two huts, which have been built by Lady Perth as 
a shelter for those who visit the Trossachs, Coleridge hailed 
us with a shout of triumph from the door of one of them, 
exulting in the glory of Scotland. The huts stand at a 
small distance from each other, on a high and perpendicular 
rock, that rises from the bed of the lake. A road, which 
has a very wild appearance, has been cut through the rock; 
yet even here, among these bold precipices, the feeling of 
excessive beautifulness overcomes every other. While we 
were Upon the lake, on every side of us were bays within 
bays, often more like tiny lakes or pools than bays, and 
these not in long succession only, but all round, some 
almost on the broad breast of the water, the promontories 
shot out so far. 

After we had landed we walked along the road to the 
uppermost of the huts, where Coleridge was standing. 
From the door of this hut we saw Benvenue opposite to 
us—a high mountain, but clouds concealed its top; its side, 
rising directly from the lake, is covered with birch-trees to 
a great height, and seamed with innumerable channels of 
torrents; but now there was no water in them, nothing to 
break in upon the stillness and repose of the scene; nor 
do I recollect hearing the sound of water from any side, 
the wind being fallen and the lake perfectly still; the 
place was all eye, and completely satisfied the sense and 
the heart. Above and below us, to the right and to the 
left, were rocks, knolls, and hills, which, wherever any¬ 
thing could grow—and that was everywhere between the 
rocks—were covered with trees and heather; the trees did 
not in any place grow so thick as an ordinary wood; yet 
I think there was never a bare space of twenty yards: it 


100 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


was more like a natural forest, where the trees grow in 
groups or singly, not hiding the surface of the ground, 
which, instead of being green and mossy, was of the richest 
purple. The heather was indeed the most luxuriant I ever 
saw; it was so tall that a child of ten years old struggling 
through it would often have been buried head and shoulders, 
and the exquisite beauty of the colour, near or at a dis¬ 
tance, seen under the trees, is not to he conceived. But if 
I were to go on describing for evermore, I should give but 
a faint, and very often a false, idea of the different objects 
and the various combinations of them in this most intri¬ 
cate and delicious place; besides, I tired myself out with 
describing at Loch Lomond, so I will hasten to the end of 
my tale. This reminds me of a sentence in a little pam¬ 
phlet written by the minister of Callander, descriptive of 
the environs of that place. After having taken up at least 
six closely-printed pages with the Trossachs, he concludes 
thus, ‘In a word, the Trossachs beggar all description/ 10 — 
a conclusion in which everybody who has been there will 
agree with him. I believe the word Trossachs signifies 
‘ many hills ’: it is a name given to all the eminences at the 
foot of Loch Ketterine, and about half a mile beyond. 

We left the hut, retracing the few yards of road which 
we had climbed ; our boat lay at anchor under the rock in 
the last of all the compartments of the lake, a small oblong 
pool, almost shut up within itself, as several others had 
appeared to be, by jutting points of rock. The termination 
of a long out-shooting of the water, pushed up between 
the steps of the main shore, where the huts stand, and a 
broad promontory, which, with its hillocks and points 
and lesser promontories, occupies the centre of the foot of 
the lake. A person sailing through the lake up the middle 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


101 


of it, would just as naturally suppose that the outlet was 
here as on the other side; and so it might have been, with 
the most trifling change in the disposition of the ground, 
for at the end of this slip of water the lake is confined 
only by a gentle rising of a few yards towards an opening 
between the hills, a narrow pass or valley through which 
the river might have flowed. The road is carried through 
this valley, which only differs from the lower part of the 
vale of the lake in being excessively narrow, and without 
water; it is enclosed by mountains, rocky mounds, hills 
and hillocks, scattered over with birch-trees, and covered 
with Dutch myrtle 11 and heather, even surpassing what we 
had seen before. Our mother Eve had no fairer, though a 
more diversified garden, to tend, than we found within this 
little close valley. It rained all the time, but the mists 
and calm air made us ample amends for a wetting. 

At the opening of the pass we climbed up a low eminence, 
and had an unexpected prospect suddenly before us—another 
lake, small compared with Loch Ketterine, though perhaps 
four miles long, but the misty air concealed the end of it. 
The transition from the solitary wildness of Loch Ket¬ 
terine and the narrow valley or pass to this scene was very 
delightful : it was a gentle place, with lovely open bays, 
one small island, corn fields, woods, and a group of cottages. 
This vale seemed to have been made to be tributary to 
the comforts of man, Loch Ketterine for the lonely delight 
of Nature, and kind spirits delighting in beauty. The sky 
was grey and heavy,—floating mists on the hill-sides, 
which softened the objects, and where we lost sight of the 
lake it appeared so near to the sky that they almost 
touched one another, giving a visionary beauty to the 
prospect. While we overlooked this quiet scene we could 


102 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


hear the stream rumbling among the rocks between the 
lakes, but the mists concealed any glimpse of it which we 
might have had. This small lake is called Loch Achray. 

We returned, of course, by the same road. Our guide 
repeated over and over again his lamentations that the 
day was so bad, though we had often told him—not in¬ 
deed with much hope that he would believe us—that we 
were glad of it. As we walked along he pulled a leafy 
twig from a birch-tree, and, after smelling it, gave it to 
me, saying, how * sweet and halesome 9 it was, and that 
it was pleasant and very halesome on a fine summer’s 
morning to sail under the banks where the birks are 
growing. This reminded me of the old Scotch songs, in 
which you continually hear of the 4 pu’ing the birks/ 
Common as birches are in the north of England, I believe 
their sweet smell is a thing unnoticed among the peasants. 
We returned again to the huts to take a farewell look. 
We had shared our food with the ferryman and a traveller 
whom we had met here, who was going up the lake, and 
wished to lodge at the ferry-house, so we offered him a 
place in the boat. Coleridge chose to walk. We took the 
same side of the lake as before, and had much delight in 
visiting the bays over again; but the evening began to 
darken, and it rained so heavily before we had gone two 
miles that we were completely wet. It was dark when we 
landed, and on entering the house I was sick with cold. 

The good woman had provided, according to her promise, 
a better fire than we had found in the morning ; and indeed 
when I sate down in the chimney-corner of her smoky 
biggin’ I thought I had never been more comfortable in my 
life. Coleridge had been there long enough to have a pan 
of coffee boiling for us, and having put our clothes in tlie 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


103 


way of drying, we all sate down, thankful for a shelter. 
We could not prevail upon the man of the house to draw 
near the fire, though he was cold and wet, or to suffer his 
wife to get him dry clothes till she had served us, which 
she did, though most willingly, not very expeditiously. A 
Cumberland man of the same rank would not have had such a 
notion of what was fit and right in his own house, or if he 
had, one would have accused him of servility; but in the 
Highlander it only seemed like politeness, however erroneous 
and painful to us, naturally growing out of the dependence 
of the inferiors of the clan upon their laird; he did not, 
however, refuse to let his wife bring out the whisky-bottle 
at our request: ‘ She keeps a dram/ as the phrase is; 
indeed, I believe there is scarcely a lonely house by the 
wayside in Scotland where travellers may not be accom¬ 
modated with a dram. We asked for sugar, butter, barley- 
bread, and milk, and with a smile and a stare more of 
kindness than wonder, she replied, * Ye ’ll get that/ bring¬ 
ing each article separately. 

We caroused our cups of coffee, laughing like children 
at the strange atmosphere in which we were : the smoke 
came in, gusts, and spread along the walls and above 
our heads in the chimney, where the hens were roosting 
like light clouds in the sky. We laughed and laughed 
again, in spite of the smarting of our eyes, yet had a 
quieter pleasure in observing the beauty of the beams 
and rafters gleaming between the clouds of smoke. They 
had been crusted over and varnished by many winters, 
till, where the firelight fell upon them, they were as 
glossy as black rocks on a sunny day cased in ice. When 
we had eaten our supper we sat about half an hour, and I 
think I had never felt so deeply the blessing of a hospit- 


104 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


able welcome and a warm fire. The man of the house 
repeated from time to time that we should often tell of 
this night when we got to our homes, and interposed praises 
of this, his own lake, which he had more than once, when we 
were returning in the boat, ventured to say was 4 bonnier 
than Loch Lomond.’ 

Our companion from the Trossachs, who it appeared 
was an Edinburgh drawing-master going during the 
vacation on a pedestrian tour to John o’ Groat’s House, 
was to sleep in the barn with William and Coleridge, 
where the man said he had plenty of dry hay. I do not 
believe that the hay of the Highlands is often very dry, 
but this year it had a better chance than usual : wet or 
dry, however, the next morning they said they had slept 
comfortably. When I went to bed, the mistress, desiring 
me to 4 go ben,’ attended me with a candle, and assured me 
that the bed was dry, though not 4 sic as I had been used 
to.’ It was of chaff; there were two others in the room, 
a cupboard, and two chests, on one of which stood the 
milk in wooden vessels covered over; I should have thought 
that milk so kept could not have been sweet, but the cheese 
and butter were good. The walls of the whole house 
were of stone unplastered. It consisted of three apart¬ 
ments,—the cow-house at one end, the kitchen or house in 
the middle, and the spence at the other end. The rooms 
were divided, not up to the rigging, but only to the be¬ 
ginning of the roof, so that there was a free passage for 
light and smoke from one end of the house to the other. 

I went to bed some time before the family. The door was 
shut between us, and they had a bright fire, which I could 
not see; but the light it sent up among the varnished rafters 
and beams, which crossed each other in almost as intricate 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


105 


and fantastic a manner as I have seen the under-boughs of 
a large beech-tree withered by the depth of the shade 
above, produced the most beautiful effect that can be con¬ 
ceived. It was like what I should suppose an underground 
cave or temple to be, with a dripping or moist roof, and 
the moonlight entering in upon it by some means or other, 
and yet the colours were more like melted gems. I lay 
looking up till the light of the fire faded away, and the man 
and his wife and child had crept into their bed at the 
other end of the room. I did not sleep much, but passed 
a comfortable night, for my bed, though hard, was warm 
and clean : the unusualness of my situation prevented me 
from sleeping. I could hear the waves beat against the 
shore of the lake ; a little * syke * close to the door made a 
much louder noise ; and when I sate up in my bed I could 
see the lake through an open window-place at the bed’s 
head. Add to this, it rained all night. I was less occu¬ 
pied by remembrance of the Trossachs, beautiful as they 
were, than the vision of the Highland hut, which I could 
not get out of my head. I thought of the Fairyland of 
Spenser, and what I had read in romance at other times, 
and then, what a feast would it be for a London panto¬ 
mime-maker, could he but transplant it to Drury Lane, 
with all its beautiful colours ! 


10G 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


THIRD WEEK. 

Sunday , August 28 th .—We were desirous to have crossed 
the mountains above Glengyle to Glenfalloch, at the head 
of Loch Lomond, but it rained so heavily that it was 
impossible, so the ferryman engaged to row us to the 
point where Coleridge and I had rested, while William was 
going on our doubtful adventure. The hostess provided 
us with tea and sugar for our breakfast; the water was 
boiled in an iron pan, and dealt out to us in a jug, a proof 
that she does not often drink tea, though she said she had 
always tea and sugar in the house. She and the rest of 
the family breakfasted on curds and whey, as taken out of 
the pot in which she was making cheese; she insisted 
upon my taking some also ; and her husband joined in 
with the old story, that it was ‘ varra halesome.’ I thought 
it exceedingly good, and said to myself that they lived 
nicely with their cow : she was meat, drink, and company. 
Before breakfast the housewife was milking behind the 
chimney, and I thought I had seldom heard a sweeter 
fire-side sound; in an evening, sitting over a sleepy, 
low-burnt fire, it would lull one like the purring of a 
cat. 

When we departed, the good woman shook me cordially 
by the hand, saying she hoped that if ever we came into 
Scotland again, we would come and see her. The lake 
was calm, but it rained so heavily that we could see little. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND . 


107 


Landed at about ten o’clock, almost wet to the skin, and, 
with no prospect but of streaming rains, faced the mountain- 
road to Loch Lomond. We recognised the same objects 
passed before,—the tarn, the potato-bed, and the cottages 
with their burnies, which were no longer, as one might 
say, household streams, but made us only think of the 
mountains and rocks they came from. Indeed, it is not 
easy to imagine how different everything appeared : the 
mountains with mists and torrents alive and always chang¬ 
ing ; but the low grounds where the inhabitants had been 
at work the day before were melancholy, with here and 
there a few haycocks and hay scattered about. 

Wet as we were, William and I turned out of our path 
to the Garrison house. A few rooms of it seemed to be 
inhabited by some wretchedly poor families, and it had all 
the desolation of a large decayed mansion in the suburbs of 
a town, abandoned of its proper inhabitants, and become 
the abode of paupers. In spite of its outside bravery, it 
was but a poor protection against ‘ the sword of winter, 
keen and cold.’ We looked at the building through the 
arch of a broken gateway of the courtyard, in the middle of 
which it stands. Upon that stormy day it appeared more 
than desolate; there was something about it even frightful. 

When beginning to descend the hill towards Loch 
Lomond, we overtook two girls, who told us we could not 
cross the ferry till evening, for the boat was gone with a 
number of people to church. One of the girls was exceed¬ 
ingly beautiful; and the figures of both of them, in grey 
plaids falling to their feet, their faces only being uncovered, 
excited our attention before we spoke to them ; but they 
answered us so sweetly that we were quite delighted, at 
the same time that they stared at us with an innocent 


108 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


look of wonder. I think I never heard the English 
language sound more sweetly than from the mouth of the 
elder of these girls, while she stood at the gate answering 
our inquiries, her face flushed with the rain; her pro¬ 
nunciation was clear and distinct: without difficulty, yet 
slow, like that of a foreign speech. They told us we might 
sit in the ferry-house till the return of the boat, went in 
with us, and made a good fire as fast as possible to dry our 
wet clothes. We learnt that the taller was the sister of 
the ferryman, and had been left in charge with the house 
for the day, that the other was his wife’s sister, and 
was come with her mother on a visit,—an old woman, who 
sate in a corner beside the cradle, nursing her little grand¬ 
child. We were glad to be housed, with our feet upon a 
warm hearth-stone; and our attendants were so active 
and good-humoured that it was pleasant to have to desire 
them to do anything. The younger was a delicate and 
unhealthy-looking girl; but there was an uncommon 
meekness in her countenance, with an air of premature 
intelligence, which is often seen in sickly young persons. 
The other made me think of Peter Bell’s ‘ Highland Girl: ’ 

4 As light and beauteous as a squirrel, 

As beauteous and as wild.’ 

She moved with unusual activity, which was chastened 
very delicately by a certain hesitation in her looks when 
she spoke, being able to understand us but imperfectly. 
They were both exceedingly desirous to get me what I 
wanted to make me comfortable. I was to have a gown 
and petticoat of the mistress’s; so they turned out her 
whole wardrobe upon the parlour floor, talking Erse to 
one another, and laughing all the time. It was long before 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


109 


they could decide which of the gowns I was to have; they 
chose at last, no doubt thinking that it was the best, a 
light-coloured sprigged cotton, with long sleeves, and they 
both laughed while I was putting it on, with the blue 
linsey petticoat, and one or the other, or both together, 
helped me to dress, repeating at least half a dozen times, 
‘ You never had on the like of that before.’ They held a 
consultation of several minutes over a pair of coarse woollen 
stockings, gabbling Erse as fast as their tongues could 
move, and looked as if uncertain what to do : at last, with 
great diffidence, they offered them to me, adding, as before, 
that I had never worn ‘the like of them.’ When we 
entered the house we had been not a little glad to see a 
fowl stewing in barley-broth; and now, when the wettest 
of our clothes were stripped off, began again to recollect 
that we were hungry, and asked if we could have dinner. 
‘ Oh yes, ye may get that,’ the elder replied, pointing to 
the pan on the fire. 

Conceive what a busy house it was—all our wet clothes 
to be dried, dinner prepared and set out for us four 
strangers, and a second cooking for the family; add to this, 
two rough ‘ callans/ as they called them, boys about eight 
years old, were playing beside us; the poor baby was 
fretful all the while ; the old woman sang doleful Erse songs, 
rocking it in its cradle the more violently the more it cried; 
then there were a dozen cookings of porridge, and it could 
never be fed without the assistance of all three. The hut was 
after the Highland fashion, but without anything beauti¬ 
ful, except its situation; the floor was rough, and wet with 
the rain that came in at the door, so that the lasses’ 
bare feet were as wet as if they had been walking through 
street puddles, in passing from one room to another; the 


110 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


windows were open, as at the other hut; but the kitchen 
had a bed in it, and was much smaller, and the shape of 
the house was like that of a common English cottage, with¬ 
out its comfort; yet there was no appearance of poverty— 
indeed, quite the contrary. The peep out of the open door- 
place across the lake made some amends for the want of 
the long roof and elegant rafters of our boatman’s cottage, 
and all the while the waterfall, which we could not see, 
was roaring at the end of the hut, which seemed to serve 
as a sounding-board for its noise, so that it was not 
unlike sitting in a house where a mill is going. The dash¬ 
ing of the waves against the shore could not be distin¬ 
guished ; yet in spite of my knowledge of this I could not 
help fancying that the tumult and storm came from the 
lake, and went out several times to see if it was possible to 
row over in safety. 

After long waiting we grew impatient for our dinner; 
at last the pan was taken off, and carried into the other 
room; but we had to wait at least another half hour 
before the ceremony of dishing up was completed; yet 
with all this bustle and difficulty, the manner in which 
they, and particularly the elder of the girls, performed 
everything, was perfectly graceful. We ate a hearty 
dinner, and had time to get our clothes quite dry before 
the arrival of the boat. The girls could not say at what 
time it would be at home; on our asking them if the church 
was far off they replied, ‘Not very far;’ and when we 
asked how far, they said, ‘ Perhaps about four or five miles.’ 

I believe a Church of England congregation would hold 
themselves excused for non-attendance three parts of the 
year, having but half as far to go ; but in the lonely parts 
of Scotland they make little of a journey of nine or ten 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


Ill 


miles to a preaching. They have not perhaps an oppor¬ 
tunity of going more than once in a quarter of a year, and, 
setting piety aside, have other motives to attend: they 
hear the news, public and private, and see their friends and 
neighbours; for, though the people who meet at these times 
may be gathered together from a circle of twenty miles’ 
diameter, a sort of neighbourly connexion must be so 
brought about. There is something exceedingly pleasing 
to my imagination in this gathering together of the in¬ 
habitants of these secluded districts—for instance, the bor¬ 
derers of these two large lakes meeting at the deserted 
garrison which I have described. The manner of their travel¬ 
ling is on foot, on horseback, and in boats across the waters, 
—young and old, rich and poor, all in their best dress. 

If it were not for these Sabbath-day meetings one sum¬ 
mer month would be like another summer month, one 
winter month like another—detached from the goings-on 
of the world, and solitary throughout; from the time of 
earliest childhood they will be like landing-places in the 
memory of a person who has passed his life in these thinly- 
peopled regions; they must generally leave distinct im¬ 
pressions, differing from each other so much as they do in 
circumstances, in time and place, etc.,—some in the open 
fields, upon hills, in houses, under large rocks, in storms, 
and in fine weather. 

But I have forgotten the fireside of our hut. After 
long waiting, the girls, who had been on the look-out, 
informed us that the boat was coming. I went to the 
water-side, and saw a cluster of people on the opposite 
shore; but, being yet at a distance, they looked more like 
soldiers surrounding a carriage than a group of men and 
women; red and green were the distinguishable colours. 


112 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


We hastened to get ourselves ready as soon as we saw the 
party approach, but had longer to wait than we expected, 
the lake being wider than it appears to be. As they drew 
near we could distinguish men in tartan plaids, women in 
scarlet cloaks, and green umbrellas by the half-dozen. The 
landing was as pretty a sight as ever I saw. The bay, 
which had been so quiet two days before, was all in motion 
with small waves, while the swoln waterfall roared in our 
ears. The boat came steadily up, being pressed almost to 
the water’s edge by the weight of its cargo; perhaps 
twenty people landed, one after another. It did not rain 
much, but the women held up their umbrellas; they were 
dressed in all the colours of the rainbow, and with their 
scarlet cardinals, the tartan plaids of the men, and Scotch 
bonnets, made a gay appearance. There was a joyous 
bustle surrounding the boat, which even imparted some¬ 
thing of the same character to the waterfall in its tumult, 
and the restless grey waves; the young men laughed and 
shouted, the lasses laughed, and the elder folks seemed to 
be in a bustle to be away. I remember well with what haste 
the mistress of the house where we were ran up to seek 
after her child, and seeing us, how anxiously and kindly 
she inquired how we had fared, if we had had a good 
fire, had been well waited upon, etc. etc. All this in three 
minutes—for the boatman had another party to bring from 
the other side, and hurried us off. 

The hospitality we had met with at the two cottages 
and Mr. Macfarlane’s gave us very favourable impressions 
on this our first entrance into the Highlands, and at this 
day the innocent merriment of the girls, with their kind¬ 
ness to us, and the beautiful figure and face of the elder, 
come to my mind whenever I think of the ferry-house 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


113 


and waterfall of Loch Lomond, and I never think of the 
two girls hut the whole image of that romantic spot is 
before me, a living image, as it will be to my dying day. 
The following poem* was written by William not long 
after our return from Scotland:— 

Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower 
Of beauty is thy earthly dower! 

Twice seven consenting years have shed 
Their utmost bounty on thy head : 

And these grey rocks ; this household lawn; 
These trees, a veil just half withdrawn; 

This fall of water, that doth make 
A murmur near the silent Lake ; 

This little Bay, a quiet road 
That holds in shelter thy abode; 

In truth together ye do seem 
Like something fashion’d in a dream ; 

Such forms as from their covert peep 
When earthly cares are laid asleep! 

Yet, dream and vision as thou art, 

I bless thee with a human heart: 

God shield thee to thy latest years! 

I neither know thee nor thy peers ; 

And yet my eyes are filled with tears. 

With earnest feeling I shall pray 
For thee when I am far away: 

For never saw I mien or face, 

In which more plainly I could trace 
Benignity and home-bred sense 
Bipening in perfect innocence. 

* To a Highland Girl. At Inversneyde upon Loch Lomond. 

H 


114 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


Here, scattered like a random seed, 
Bemote from men, thou dost not need 
Th’ embarrass’d look of shy distress 
And maidenly shamefacedness; 

Thou wear’st upon thy forehead clear 
The freedom of a mountaineer : 

A face with gladness overspread! 

Sweet smiles, by human-kindness bred ! 
And seemliness complete, that sways 
Thy courtesies, about thee plays ; 

With no restraint but such as springs 
From quick and eager visitings 
Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach 
Of thy few words of English speech : 

A bondage sweetly brook’d, a strife 
That gives thy gestures grace and life! 
So have I, not unmoved in mind, 

Seen birds of tempest-loving kind, 

Thus beating up against the wind. 

What hand but would a garland cull 
For thee, who art so beautiful? 

0 happy pleasure ! here to dwell 
Beside thee in some heathy dell; 

Adopt your homely ways and dress, 

A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess ! 

But I could frame a wish for thee 
More like a grave reality : 

Thou art to me but as a wave 
Of the wild sea : and I would have 
Some claim upon thee, if I could, 
Though but of common neighbourhood. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


115 


What joy to hear thee and to see ! 

Thy elder brother I would be, 

Thy father—anything to thee. 

Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace 
Hath led me to this lonely place ! 

Joy have I had; and going hence 
I bear away my recompence. 

In spots like these it is we prize 
Our memory, feel that she hath eyes : 

Then why should I be loth to stir 1 
I feel this place is made for her; 

To give new pleasure like the past 
Continued long as life shall last. 

Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart, 

Sweet Highland Girl, from thee to part; 

For I, methinks, till I grow old, 

As fair before me shall behold 
As I do now, the Cabin small, 

The Lake, the Bay, the Waterfall, 

And thee, the Spirit of them all. 

We were rowed over speedily by the assistance of two 
youths, who went backwards and forwards for their own 
amusement, helping at the oars, and pulled as if they had 
strength and spirits to spare for a year to come. We noticed 
that they had uncommonly fine teeth, and that they and 
the boatmen were very handsome people. Another merry 
crew took our place in the boat. 

We had three miles to walk to Tarbet. It rained, but 
not heavily; the mountains were not concealed from us by 
the mists, but appeared larger and more grand; twilight 
was coming on, and the obscurity under which we saw the 


116 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


objects, with the sounding of the torrents, kept our minds 
alive and wakeful; all was solitary and huge—sky, water, 
and mountains mingled together. While we were walking 
forward, the road leading us over the top of a brow, we 
stopped suddenly at the sound of a half-articulate Gaelic 
hooting from the field close to us. It came from a little boy, 
whom we could see on the hill between us and the lake, 
wrapped up in a grey plaid. He was probably calling home 
the cattle for the night. His appearance was in the highest 
degree moving to the imagination : mists were on the hill¬ 
sides, darkness shutting in upon the huge avenue of moun¬ 
tains, torrents roaring, no house in sight to which the child 
might belong; his dress, cry, and appearance all different 
from anything we had been accustomed to. It was a text, 
as William has since observed to me, containing in itself 
the whole history of the Highlander’s life—his melancholy, 
his simplicity, his poverty, his superstition, and above all, 
that visionariness which results from a communion with the 
unworldliness of nature. 

When we reached Tarbet the people of the house were 
anxious to know how we had fared, particularly the girl 
who had waited upon us. Our praises of Loch Ketterine 
made her exceedingly happy, and she ventured to say, of 
which we had heard not a word before, that it was ‘ bonnier 
to her fancy than Loch Lomond.’ 12 The landlord, who was 
not at home when we had set off, told us that if he had 
known of our going he would have recommended us to Mr. 
Macfarlane’s or the other farm-house, adding that they were 
hospitable people in that vale. Coleridge and I got tea, 
and William and the drawing-master chose supper; they 
asked to have a broiled fowl, a dish very common in Scot¬ 
land, to which the mistress replied, ‘ Would not a “ boiled ” 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


117 


one do as well V They consented, supposing that it would 
be more easily cooked; but when the fowl made its appear¬ 
ance, to their great disappointment it proved a cold one 
that had been stewed in the broth at dinner. 

Monday , August 29th .—It rained heavily this morning, 
and, having heard so much of the long rains since we 
came into Scotland, as well as before, we had no hope that 
it would be over in less than three weeks at the least, so 
poor Coleridge, being very unwell, determined to send his 
clothes to Edinburgh and make the best of his way thither, 
being afraid to face much wet weather in an open carriage. 
'William and I were unwilling to be confined at Tarbet, 
so we resolved to go to Arrochar, a mile and a half on the 
road to Inverary, where there is an inn celebrated as a 
place of good accommodation for travellers. Coleridge and 
I set off on foot, and William was to follow with the car, 
but a heavy shower coming on, Coleridge left me to shelter 
in a hut and wait for William while he went on before. 
This hut was unplastered, and without windows, crowded 
with beds, uncomfortable, and not in the simplicity of the 
ferryman’s house. A number of good clothes were hanging 
against the walls, and a green silk umbrella was set up in 
a corner. I should have been surprised to see an umbrella 
in such a place before we came into the Highlands; but 
umbrellas are not so common anywhere as there—a plain 
proof of the wetness of the climate; even five minutes 
after this a girl passed us without shoes and stockings, 
whose gown and petticoat were not worth half a crown, 
holding an umbrella over her bare head. 

We turned at a guide-post, ‘ To the New Inn/ and, after 
descending a little, and winding round the bottom of a hill, 


118 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


saw, at a small distance, a white house half hidden by tall 
trees upon a lawn that slopes down to the side of Loch 
Long, a sea-loch, which is here very narrow. Right before 
us, across the lake, was The Cobbler, which appeared to rise 
directly from the water; but, in fact, it overtopped another 
hill, being a considerable way behind. The inn looked so 
much like a gentleman’s house that we could hardly believe 
it was an inn. We drove down the broad gravel walk, and, 
making a sweep, stopped at the front door, were shown 
into a large parlour with a fire, and my first thought was, 
How comfortable we should be! but Coleridge, who had 
arrived before us, checked my pleasure: the waiter had 
shown himself disposed to look coolly upon us, and there 
had been a hint that we could not have beds;—a party was 
expected, who had engaged all the beds. We conjectured 
this might be but a pretence, and ordered dinner in the 
hope that matters would clear up a little, and we thought 
they could not have the heart to turn us out in so heavy a 
rain if it were possible to lodge us. We had a nice dinner, 
yet would have gladly changed our roasted lamb and pickles, 
and the gentleman-waiter with his napkin in his pocket, for 
the more homely fare of the smoky hut at Loch Ketterine, 
and the good woman’s busy attentions, with the certainty 
of a hospitable shelter at night. After dinner I spoke to 
the landlord himself, but he was not to be moved: he 
could not even provide one bed for me, so nothing was to 
be done but either to return to Tarbet with Coleridge, or 
that William and I should push on the next stage, to 
Cairndow. We had an interesting close view from the 
windows of the room where we sate, looking across the 
lake, which did not differ in appearance, as we saw it here, 
from a fresh-water lake. The sloping lawn on which the 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


119 


house stood was prettily scattered over with trees; but we 
had seen the place to great advantage at our first approach, 
owing to the mists upon the mountains, which had made 
them seem exceedingly high, while the strange figures on 
The Cobbler appeared and disappeared, like living things; 
but, as the day cleared we were disappointed in what was 
more like the permanent effect of the scene : the mountains 
were not so lofty as we had supposed, and the low grounds 
not so fertile; yet still it is a very interesting, I may say 
beautiful, place. 

The rain ceased entirely, so we resolved to go on to 
Cairndow, and had the satisfaction of seeing that our land¬ 
lord had not told us an untruth concerning the expected 
company; for just before our departure we saw, on the 
opposite side of the vale, a coach with four horses, another 
carriage, and two or three men on horseback—a striking 
procession, as it moved along between the bare mountain 
and the lake. Twenty years ago, perhaps, such a sight had 
not been seen here except when the Duke of Argyle, or 
some other Highland chieftain, might chance to be going 
with his family to London or Edinburgh. They had to 
cross a bridge at the head of the lake, which we could not 
see, so, after disappearing about ten minutes, they drove up 
to the door—three old ladies, two waiting-women, and store 
of men-servants. The old ladies were as gaily dressed as bull¬ 
finches in spring-time. We heard the next day that they 
were the renowned Miss Waughs of Carlisle, and that they 
enjoyed themselves over a game at cards in the evening. 

Left Arrochar at about four o’clock in the afternoon. 
Coleridge accompanied us a little way; we portioned out 
the contents of our purse before our parting; and, after we 
had lost sight of him, drove heavily along. Crossed the 


120 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


bridge, and looked to the right, up the vale, which is soon 
terminated by mountains : it was of a yellow green, with but 
few trees and few houses; sea-gulls were flying above it. 
Our road—the same along which the carriages had come 
—was directly under the mountains on our right hand, and 
the lake was close to us on our left, the waves breaking 
among stones overgrown with yellow sea-weed; fishermen’s 
boats, and other larger vessels than are seen on fresh-water 
lakes were lying at anchor near the opposite shore; sea¬ 
birds flying overhead; the noise of torrents mingled with 
the beating of the waves, and misty mountains enclosed 
the vale;—a melancholy but not a dreary scene. Often 
have I, in looking over a map of Scotland, followed the 
intricate windings of one of these sea-lochs, till, pleasing 
myself with my own imaginations, I have felt a longing, 
almost painful, to travel among them by land or by water. 

This was the first sea-loch we had seen. We came pre¬ 
pared for a new and great delight, and the first impression 
which William and I received, as we drove rapidly through 
the rain down the lawn of Arrochar, the objects dancing 
before us, was even more delightful than we had expected. 
But, as I have said, when we looked through the window, 
as the mists disappeared and the objects were seen more 
distinctly, there was less of sheltered valley-comfort than 
we had fancied to ourselves, and the mountains were not 
so grand; and now that we were near to the shore of 
the lake, and could see that it was not of fresh water, the 
wreck, the broken sea-shells, and scattered sea-weed gave 
somewhat of a dull and uncleanly look to the whole lake, 
and yet the water was clear, and might have appeared as 
beautiful as that of Loch Lomond, if with the same pure 
pebbly shore. Perhaps, had we been in a more cheerful 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


121 


mood of mind we might have seen everything with a dif¬ 
ferent eye. The stillness of the mountains, the motion of 
the waves, the streaming torrents, the sea-birds, the fishing- 
boats were all melancholy; yet still, occupied as my mind 
was with other things, I thought of the long windings 
through which the waters of the sea had come to this in¬ 
land retreat, visiting the inner solitudes of the mountains, 
and I could have wished to have mused out a summer’s day 
on the shores of the lake. From the foot of these moun¬ 
tains whither might not a little barque carry one away 1 
Though so far inland, it is but a slip of the great ocean : 
seamen, fishermen, and shepherds here find a natural home* 
We did not travel far down the lake, but, turning to the 
right through an opening of the mountains, entered a glen 
called Glen Croe. 

Our thoughts were full of Coleridge, and when we were 
enclosed in the narrow dale, with a length of winding road 
before us, a road that seemed to have insinuated itself into 
the very heart of the mountains—the brook, the road, bare 
hills, floating mists, scattered stones, rocks, and herds of 
black cattle being all that we could see,—I shivered at the 
thought of his being sickly and alone, travelling from place 
to place. 

The Cobbler, on our right, was pre-eminent above the 
other hills ; the singular rocks on its summit, seen so near, 
were like ruins—castles or watch-towers. After we had 
passed one reach of the glen, another opened out, long, 
narrow, deep, and houseless, with herds of cattle and large 
stones; but the third reach was softer and more beautiful, 
as if the mountains had there made a warmer shelter, and 
there were a more gentle climate. The rocks by the river¬ 
side had dwindled away, the mountains were smooth and 


122 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


green, and towards the end, where the glen sloped upwards, 
it was a cradle-like hollow, and at that point where the 
slope became a hill, at the very bottom of the curve of the 
cradle, stood one cottage, with a few fields and beds of 
potatoes. There was also another house near the roadside, 
which appeared to be a herdsman’s hut. The dwelling in 
the middle of the vale was a very pleasing object. I said 
within myself, How quietly might a family live in this pen¬ 
sive solitude, cultivating and loving their own fields ! but 
the herdsman’s hut, being the only one in the vale, had a 
melancholy face ; not being attached to any particular plot 
of land, one could not help considering it as just kept alive 
and above ground by some dreary connexion with the long 
barren tract we had travelled through. 

The afternoon had been exceedingly pleasant after we 
had left the vale of Arrochar; the sky was often threaten¬ 
ing, but the rain blew off, and the evening was uncommonly 
fine. The sun had set a short time before we had dis¬ 
mounted from the car to walk up the steep hill at the end 
of the glen. Clouds were moving all over the sky—some 
of a brilliant yellow hue, which shed a light like bright 
moonlight upon the mountains. We could not have seen 
the head of the valley under more favourable circum¬ 
stances. 

The passing away of a storm is always a time of life and 
cheerfulness, especially in a mountainous country ; but that 
afternoon and evening the sky was in an extraordinary 
degree vivid and beautiful. We often stopped in ascend¬ 
ing the hill to look down the long reach of the glen. The 
road, following the course of the river as far as we could 
see, the farm and cottage, hills, smooth towards the base 
and rocky higher up, were the sole objects before us. This 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


123 


part- of Glen Croe reminded us of some of the dales of the 
north of England—Grisdale above Ulswater, for instance; 
but the length of it, and the broad highway, which is 
always to be seen at a great distance, a sort of centre of 
the vale, a point of reference, gives to the whole of the 
glen, and each division of it, a very different character. 

At the top of the hill we came to a seat with the well- 
known inscription, ‘ Rest and be thankful/ On the same 
stone it was recorded that the road had been made by 
Col. Wade’s regiment. The seat is placed so as to com¬ 
mand a full" view of the valley, and the long, long road, 
which, with the fact recorded, and the exhortation, makes 
it an affecting resting-place. We called to mind with 
pleasure a seat under the braes of Loch Lomond on which 
I had rested, where the traveller is informed by an inscrip¬ 
tion upon a stone that the road was made by Col. Lascelles’ 
regiment. There, the spot had not been chosen merely as 
a resting-place, for there was no steep ascent in the high¬ 
way, but it might be for the sake of a spring of water and 
a beautiful rock, or, more probably, because at that point 
the labour had been more than usually toilsome in hewing 
through the rock. Soon after we had climbed the hill we 
began to descend into another glen, called Glen Kinglas. 
We now saw the western sky, which had hitherto been 
hidden from us by the hill—a glorious mass of clouds up¬ 
rising from a sea of distant mountains, stretched out in 
length before us, towards the west—and close by us was a 
small lake or tarn. From the reflection of the crimson 
clouds the water appeared of a deep red, like melted 
rubies, yet with a mixture of a grey or blackish hue; the 
gorgeous light of the sky, with the singular colour of the 
lake, made the scene exceedingly romantic; yet it was 


124 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


more melancholy than cheerful. With all the power of 
light from the clouds, there was an overcasting of the 
gloom of evening, a twilight upon the hills. 

We descended rapidly into the glen, which resembles 
the lower part of Glen Croe, though it seemed to be in¬ 
ferior in beauty; but before we had passed through one 
reach it was quite dark, and I only know that the steeps 
were high, and that we had the company of a foaming 
stream; and many a vagrant torrent crossed us, dashing 
down the hills. The road was bad, and, uncertain how we 
should fare, we were eager and somewhat uneasy to get 
forward; but when we were out of the close glen, and 
near to Cairndow, as a traveller had told us, the moon 
showed her clear face in the sky, revealing a spacious vale, 
with a broad loch and sloping corn fields; the hills 
not very high. This cheerful sight put us into spirits, 
and we thought it was at least no dismal place to sit up 
all night in, if they had no beds, and they could not refuse 
us a shelter. We were, however, well received, and sate 
down in a neat parlour with a good fire. 

Tuesday , August 30 th .—Breakfasted before our departure, 
and ate a herring, fresh from the water, at our landlord’s 
earnest recommendation—much superior to the herrings 
we get in the north of England.* Though we rose at 
seven, could not set off before nine o’clock; the servants 
were in bed ; the kettle did not boil—indeed, we were 
completely out of patience; but it had always been so, 
and we resolved to go off in future without breakfast. 
Cairndow is a single house by the side of the loch, I be¬ 
lieve resorted to by gentlemen in the fishing season : it is 
* I should rather think so !— Ed. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


125 


a pleasant place for such a purpose; but the vale did not 
look so beautiful as by moonlight—it had a sort of sea-cold¬ 
ness without mountain grandeur. There is a ferry for foot- 
passengers from Cairndow to the other side of the water, 
and the road along which all carriages go is carried round 
the head of the lake, perhaps a distance of three miles. 

After we had passed the landing-place of the ferry opposite 
to Cairndow we saw the lake spread out to a great width, 
more like an arm of the sea or a great river than one of 
our lakes; it reminded us of the Severn at the Chepstow 
passage ; but the shores were less rich and the hills higher. 
The sun shone, which made the morning cheerful, though 
there was a cold wind. Our road never carried us far from 
the lake, and with the beating of the waves, the sparkling 
sunshiny water, boats, the opposite hills, and, on the 
side on which we travelled, the chance cottages, the cop¬ 
pice woods, and common business of the fields, the ride 
could not but be amusing. But what most excited our 
attention was, at one particular place, a cluster of fish¬ 
ing-boats at anchor in a still corner of the lake, a small 
bay or harbour by the wayside. They were overshadowed 
by fishermen’s nets hung out to dry, which formed a 
dark awning that covered them like a tent, overhanging 
the water on each side, and falling in the most exquisitely 
graceful folds. There was a monastic pensiveness, a fune¬ 
real gloom in the appearance of this little company of 
vessels, which was the more interesting from the general 
liveliness and glancing motions of the water, they being 
perfectly still and silent in their sheltered nook. 

When we had travelled about seven miles from Cairndow, 
winding round the bottom of a hill, we came in view of 
a great basin or elbow of the lake. Completely out of 


126 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


sight of the long track of water we had coasted, we seemed 
now to he on the edge of a very large, almost circular, lake, 
the town of Inverary before us, a line of white buildings 
on a low promontory right opposite, and close to the 
water’s edge; the whole landscape a showy scene, and 
bursting upon us at once. A traveller who was riding by 
our side called out, * Can that be the Castle V Recollecting 
the prints which we had seen, we knew it could not; but 
the mistake is a natural one at that distance : it is so little 
like an ordinary town, from the mixture of regularity and 
irregularity in the buildings. With the expanse of water 
and pleasant mountains, the scattered boats and sloops, 
and those gathered together, it had a truly festive appear¬ 
ance. A few steps more brought us in view of the Castle, 
a stately turreted mansion, but with a modern air, standing 
on a lawn, retired from the water, and screened behind by 
woods covering the sides of high hills to the top, and still 
beyond, by bare mountains. Our road wound round the 
semicircular shore, crossing two bridges of lordly archi¬ 
tecture. The town looked pretty when we drew near to 
it in connexion with its situation, different from any place 
I had ever seen, yet exceedingly like what I imaged to 
myself from representations in raree-shows, or pictures of 
foreign places—Venice, for example—painted on the scene 
of a play-house, which one is apt to fancy are as cleanly 
and gay as they look through the magnifying-glass of the 
raree-show or in the candle-light dazzle of a theatre. At 
the door of the inn, though certainly the buildings had not 
that delightful outside which they appeared to have at a 
distance, yet they looked very pleasant. The range bor¬ 
dering on the water consisted of little else than the inn, 
being a large house, with very large stables, the county 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


127 


gaol, the opening into the main street into the town, and 
an arched gateway, the entrance into the Duke of Argyle’s 
private domain. 

We were decently well received at the inn, hut it was 
over-rich in waiters and large rooms to be exactly to our 
taste, though quite in harmony with the neighbourhood. 
Before dinner we went into the Duke’s pleasure-grounds, 
which are extensive, and of course command a variety of 
lively and interesting views. Walked through avenues of 
tall beech-trees, and observed some that we thought 
even the tallest we had ever seen; but they were all 
scantily covered with leaves, and the leaves exceedingly 
small—indeed, some of them, in the most exposed situa¬ 
tions, were almost bare as if it had been winter. Travel¬ 
lers who wish to view the inside of the castle send in 
their names, and the Duke appoints the time of their 
going ; but we did not think that what we should see 
would repay us for the trouble, there being no pictures, 
and the house, which I believe has not been built above 
half a century, is fitted up in the modern style. If there 
had been any reliques of the ancient costume of the castle 
of a Highland chieftain, we should have been sorry to 
have passed it. 

Sate after dinner by the fireside till near sunset, for it 
was very cold, though the sun shone all day. At the 
beginning of this our second walk we passed through the 
town, which is but a doleful example of Scotch filth. The 
houses are plastered or rough-cast, and washed yellow— 
well built, well sized, and sash-windowed, bespeaking a 
connexion with the Duke, such a dependence as may be 
expected in a small town so near to his mansion; and 
indeed he seems to have done his utmost to make them 


128 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


comfortable, according to our English notions of comfort : 
they are fit for the houses of people living decently upon a 
decent trade; but the windows and door-steads were as 
dirty as in a dirty by-street of a large town, making a 
most unpleasant contrast with the comely face of the 
buildings towards the water, and the ducal grandeur and 
natural festivity of the scene. Smoke and blackness are 
the wild growth of a Highland hut: the mud floors cannot 
be washed, the door-steads are trampled by cattle, and if 
the inhabitants be not very cleanly it gives one little pain; 
but dirty people living in two-storied stone houses, with 
dirty sash windows, are a melancholy spectacle anywhere, 
giving the notion either of vice or the extreme of wretched¬ 
ness. 

Returning through the town, we went towards the 
Castle, and entered the Duke’s grounds by a porter’s 
lodge, following the carriage-road through the park, which 
is prettily scattered over with trees, and slopes gently 
towards the lake. A great number of lime-trees were 
growing singly, not beautiful in their shape, but I men¬ 
tion them for their resemblance to one of the same kind 
we had seen in the morning, which formed a shade as 
impenetrable as the roof of any house. The branches 
did not spread far, nor any one branch much further than 
another; on the outside it was like a green bush shorn 
with shears, but when we sate upon a bench under it, 
looking upwards, in the middle of the tree we could not 
perceive any green at all; it was like a hundred thousand 
magpies’ nests clustered and matted together, the twigs 
and boughs being so intertwined that neither the light of 
the mid-day sun nor showers of hail or rain could pierce 
through them. The lime-trees on the lawn resembled this 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


129 


tree both in shape and in the manner of intertwisting their 
twigs, but they were much smaller, and not an impene¬ 
trable shade. 

The views from the Castle are delightful. Opposite is the 
lake, girt with mountains, or rather smooth high hills; to the 
left appears a very steep rocky hill, called Duniquoich Hill, 
on the top of which is a building like a watch-tower; it 
rises boldly and almost perpendicular from the plain, at a 
little distance from the river Arey, that runs through the 
grounds. To the right is the town, overtopped by a sort 
of spire or pinnacle of the church, a thing unusual in Scot¬ 
land, except in the large towns, and which would often 
give an elegant appearance to the villages, which, from the 
uniformity of the huts, and the frequent want of tall trees, 
they seldom exhibit. 

In looking at an extensive prospect, or travelling through 
a large vale, the Trough of the Clyde for instance, I could 
not help thinking that in England there would have 
been somewhere a tower or spire to warn us of a village 
lurking under the covert of a wood or bank, or to point 
out some particular spot on the distant hills which we 
might look at with kindly feelings. I well remember 
how we used to love the little nest of trees out of 
which Ganton spire rose on the distant Wolds opposite 
to the windows at Gallow Hill. The spire of Inverary is 
not of so beautiful a shape as those of the English churches, 
and, not being one of a class of buildings which is under¬ 
stood at once, seen near or at a distance, is a less interest¬ 
ing object; but it suits well with the outlandish trimness 
of the buildings bordering on the water; indeed, there is 
no one thing of the many gathered together in the exten¬ 
sive circuit of the basin or vale of Inverary, that is not in 

I 


130 


RECOLLECTIONS OL 


harmony with the effect of the whole place. The Castle is 
built of a beautiful hewn stone, in colour resembling our 
blue slates. The author-tourists have quarrelled with the 
architecture of it, but we did not find much that we were 
disposed to blame. A castle in a deep glen, overlooking a 
roaring stream, and defended by precipitous rocks, is, no 
doubt, an object far more interesting; but, dropping all 
ideas of danger or insecurity, the natural retinue in our 
minds of an ancient Highland chieftain,—take a Duke of 
Argyle at the end of the eighteenth century, let him have 
his house in Grosvenor Square, his London liveries, and 
daughters glittering at St. James’s, and I think you will be 
satisfied with his present mansion in the Highlands, which 
seems to suit with the present times and its situation, and 
that is indeed a noble one for a modern Duke of the moun¬ 
tainous district of Argyleshire, with its bare valleys, its 
rocky coasts, and sea lochs. 

There is in the natural endowments of Inverary some¬ 
thing akin to every feature of the general character of the 
county; yet even the very mountains and the lake itself 
have a kind of princely festivity in their appearance. I 
do not know how to communicate the feeling, but it seemed 
as if it were no insult to the hills to look on them as the 
shield and enclosure of the ducal domain, to which the 
water might delight in bearing its tribute. The hills near 
the lake are smooth, so smooth that they might have been 
shaven or swept; the shores, too, had somewhat of the same 
effect, being bare, and having no roughness, no woody 
points; yet the whole circuit being very large, and the hills 
so extensive, the scene was not the less cheerful and festive, 
rejoicing in the light of heaven. Behind the Castle the 
hills are planted to a great height, and the pleasure-grounds 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


131 


extend far up the valley of Arey. We continued our 
walk a short way along the river, and were sorry to see it 
stripped of its natural ornaments, after the fashion of Mr. 
Brown,* and left to tell its tale—for it would not he silent 
like the river at Blenheim—to naked fields and the planted 
trees on the hills. We were disgusted with the stables, 
outhouses, or farm-houses in different parts of the grounds 
behind the Castle: they were broad, out-spreading, fantastic, 
and unintelligible buildings. 

Sate in the park till the moonlight was perceived more 
than the light of day. We then walked near the town by 
the water-side. I observed that the children who were 
playing did not speak Erse, but a much worse English 
than is spoken by those Highlanders whose common lan¬ 
guage is the Erse. I went into the town to purchase tea 
and sugar to carry with us on our journey. We were 
tired when we returned to the inn, and went to bed 
directly after tea. My room was at the very top of the 
house—one flight of steps after another!—but when I drew 
back the curtains of my window I was repaid for the trouble 
of panting up-stairs by one of the most splendid moonlight 
prospects that can be conceived : the whole circuit of the 
hills, the Castle, the two bridges, the tower on Duniquoich 
Hill, and the lake with many boats—fit scene for summer 
midnight festivities! I should have liked to have seen a 
bevy of Scottish ladies sailing, with music, in a gay barge. 
William, to whom I have read this, tells me that I have 
used the very words of Browne of Ottery, Coleridge’s fellow- 
townsman :— 

* As I have seen when on the breast of Thames 
A heavenly bevy of sweet English dames, 

* ‘ Capability’ Brown. 


132 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


In some calm evening of delightful May, 

With music give a farewell to the day, 

Or as they would (with an admired tone) 

Greet night’s ascension to her ebon throne.’ 

Browne’s Britannia's Pastorals. 

Wednesday , August 31s/.—We had a long day’s journey 
before us, without a regular baiting-place on the road, so 
we breakfasted at Inverary, and did not set off till nine 
o’clock, having, as usual, to complain of the laziness of the 
servants. Our road was up the valley behind the Castle, 
the same we had gone along the evening before. Further 
up, though the plantations on the hills are noble, the valley 
was cold and naked, wanting hedgerows and comfortable 
houses. We travelled several miles under the plantations, 
the vale all along seeming to belong almost exclusively to 
the Castle. It might have been better distinguished and 
adorned, as we thought, by neater farm-houses and cottages 
than are common in Scotland, and Snugger fields with warm 
hedgerows, at the same time testifying as boldly its ad¬ 
herence to the chief. 

At that point of the valley where the pleasure-grounds 
appear to end, we left our horse at a cottage door, and 
turned a few steps out of the road to see a waterfall, 
which roared so loud that we could not have gone by 
without looking about for it, even if we had not known 
that there was one near Inverary. The waterfall is 
not remarkable for anything but the good taste with 
which it has been left to itself, though there is a pleasure- 
road from the Castle to it. As we went further up the 
valley the roads died away, and it became an ordinary 
Scotch glen, the poor pasturage of the hills creeping down 
into the valley, where it was little better for the shelter, 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


133 


I mean little greener than on the hill-sides; but a man 
must be of a churlish nature if, with a mind free to look 
about, he should not find such a glen a pleasing place to 
travel through, though seeing little but the busy brook, 
with here and there a bush or tree, and cattle pasturing 
near the thinly-scattered dwellings. But we came to one 
spot which I cannot forget, a single green field at the junc¬ 
tion of another brook with the Arey, a peninsula sur¬ 
rounded with a close row of trees, which overhung the 
streams, and under their branches we could just see a neat 
white house that stood in the middle of the field enclosed 
by the trees. Before us was nothing but bare hills, and 
the road through the bare glen. A person who has not 
travelled in Scotland can scarcely imagine the pleasure we 
have had from a stone house, though fresh from the work¬ 
men’s hands, square and sharp; there is generally such an 
appearance of equality in poverty through the long glens 
of Scotland, giving the notion of savage ignorance— 
no house better than another, and barns and houses 
all alike. This house had, however, other recommenda¬ 
tions of its own; even in the fertile parts of Somerset¬ 
shire it would have been a delicious spot; here, £ ’Mid 
mountain wild set like a little nest,’ it was a resting-place 
for the fancy, and to this day I often think of it, the cot¬ 
tage and its green covert, as an image of romance, a place 
of which I have the same sort of knowledge as of some of 
the retirements, the little valleys, described so livelily by 
Spenser in his Fairy Queen. 

We travelled on, the glen now becoming entirely bare. 
Passed a miserable hut on a naked hill-side, not far from 
the road, where we were told by a man who came out of 
it that we might refresh ourselves with a dram of whisky. 


134 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


Went over the hill, and saw nothing remarkable till we 
came in view of Loch Awe, a large lake far below us, 
among high mountains—one very large mountain right 
opposite, which we afterwards found was called Cruachan. 
The day was pleasant—sunny gleams and a fresh breeze ; 
the lake—we looked across it—as bright as silver, which 
made the islands, three or four in number, appear very 
green. We descended gladly, invited by the prospect 
before us, travelling downwards, along the side of the hill, 
above a deep glen, woody towards the lower part near the 
brook; the hills on all sides were high and bare, and not 
very stony: it made us think of the descent from Newlands 
into Buttermere, though on a wider scale, and much inferior 
in simple majesty. 

After walking down the hill a long way we came to a 
bridge, under which the water dashed through a dark 
channel of rocks among trees, the lake being at a consider¬ 
able distance below, with cultivated lands between. Close 
upon the bridge was a small hamlet,* a few houses near 
together, and huddled up in trees—a very sweet spot, the 
only retired village we had yet seen which Was character¬ 
ized by ‘ beautiful ’ wildness with sheltering warmth. We 
had been told at Inverary that we should come to a place 
where we might give our horse a feed of corn, and found 
on inquiry that there was a little public-house here, or 
rather a hut ‘ where they kept a dram.’ It was a cottage, 
like all the rest, without a sign-board. The woman of the 
house helped to take the horse out of harness, and, being 
hungry, we asked her if she could make us some porridge, 
to which she replied that ‘we should get that,’ and 1 
followed her into the house, and sate over her hearth while 
* Qvcere , Cladicli.— Ed. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


135 


she was making it. As to fire, there was little sign of it, 
save the smoke, for a long time, she having no fuel hut 
green wood, and no bellows but her breath. My eyes 
smarted exceedingly, but the woman seemed so kind and 
cheerful that I was willing to endure it for the sake of 
warming my feet in the ashes and talking to her. The fire 
was in the middle of the room, a crook being suspended 
from a cross-beam, and a hole left at the top for the smoke 
to find its way out by: it was a rude Highland hut, 
unadulterated by Lowland fashions, but it had not the 
elegant shape of the ferry-house at Loch Ketterine, and 
the fire, being in the middle of the room, could not be such 
a snug place to draw to on a winter’s night. 

We had a long afternoon before us, with only eight miles 
to travel to Dalmally, and, having been told that a ferry-boat 
was kept at one of the islands, we resolved to call for it, and 
row to the island, so we went to the top of an eminence, and 
the man who was with us set some children to work to gather 
sticks and withered leaves to make a smoky fire—a signal 
for the boatman, whose hut is on a flat green island, like a 
sheep pasture, without trees, and of a considerable size : 
the man told us it was a rabbit-warren. There were other 
small islands, on one of which was a ruined house, fortifi¬ 
cation, or small castle : we could not learn anything of its 
history, only a girl told us that formerly gentlemen lived 
in such places. Immediately from the water’s edge rose 
the mountain Cruachan on the opposite side of the lake; it 
is weedy near the water and craggy above, with deep 
hollows on the surface. We thought it the grandest moun¬ 
tain we had seen, and on saying to the man who was with 
us that it was a fine mountain, 1 Yes,’ he replied, 4 it is an 
excellent mountain,’ adding that it was higher than Ben 


136 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


Lomond, and then told us some wild stories of the enormous 
profits it brought to Lord Breadalbane, its lawful owner. 
The shape of Loch Awe is very remarkable, its outlet being 
at one side, and only about eight miles from the head, and 
the whole lake twenty-four miles in length. We looked 
with longing after that branch of it opposite to us out of 
which the water issues : it seemed almost like a river gliding 
under steep precipices. What we saw of the larger branch, 
or what might be called the body of the lake, was less pro¬ 
mising, the banks being merely gentle slopes, with not very 
high mountains behind, and the ground moorish and cold. 

The children, after having collected fuel for our fire, 
began to play on the green hill where we stood, as heedless 
as if we had been trees or stones, and amused us exceed¬ 
ingly with their activity: they wrestled, rolled down the 
hill, pushing one another over and over again, laughing, 
screaming, and chattering Erse: they were all without 
shoes and stockings, which, making them fearless of hurt¬ 
ing or being hurt, gave a freedom to the action of their 
limbs which I 'never saw in English children: they stood 
upon one another, body, breast, or face, or any other part; 
sometimes one was uppermost, sometimes another, and 
sometimes they rolled all together, so that we could not 
know to which body this leg or that arm belonged. We 
waited, watching them, till we were assured that the boat¬ 
man had noticed our signal.—By the bye, if we had received 
proper directions at Loch Lomond, on our journey to Loch 
Ketterine, we should have made our way down the lake till 
we had come opposite to the ferryman’s house, where there 
is a hut, and the people who live there are accustomed to 
call him by the same signal as here. Luckily for us we 
were not so well instructed, for we should have missed the 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


137 


pleasure of receiving the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Macfar- 
lane and their family. 

A young woman who wanted to go to the island accom¬ 
panied us to the water-side. The walk was pleasant, through 
fields with hedgerows, the greenest fields we had seen in 
Scotland; but we were obliged to return without going to 
the island. The poor man had taken his boat to another 
place, and the waters were swollen so that we could not go 
close to the shore, and show ourselves to him, nor could we 
make him hear by shouting. On our return to the public- 
house we asked the woman what we should pay her, and 
were not a little surprised when she answered, 1 Three shil¬ 
lings.’ Our horse had had a sixpenny feed of miserable 
corn, not worth threepence; the rest of the charge was for 
skimmed milk, oat-bread, porridge, and blue milk cheese : 
we told her it was far too much; and, giving her half-a- 
crown, departed. I was sorry she had made this unreason¬ 
able demand, because we had liked the woman, and we had 
before been so well treated in the Highland cottages; but, 
on thinking more about it, I satisfied myself that it was no 
scheme to impose upon us, for she was contented with the 
half-crown, and would, I daresay, have been so with two 
shillings, if we had offered it her at first. Not being accus¬ 
tomed to fix a price upon porridge and milk, to such as we, 
at least, when we asked her she did not know what to say; 
but, seeing that we were travelling for pleasure, no doubt 
she concluded we were rich, and that what was a small gain 
to her could be no great loss to us. 

When we had gone a little way we saw before us a 
young man with a bundle over his shoulder, hung on a 
stick, bearing a great boy on his back : seeing that they 
were travellers, we offered to take the boy on the car, 


138 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


to which the man replied that he should be more than 
thankful, and set him up beside me. They had walked 
from Glasgow, and that morning from Inverary; the 
boy was only six years old, ‘But/ said his father, ‘he 
is a stout walker,’ and a fine fellow he was, smartly 
dressed in tight clean clothes and a nice round hat: he 
was going to stay with his grandmother at Dalmally. I 
found him good company; though I could not draw a single 
word out of him, it was a pleasure to see his happiness 
gleaming through the shy glances of his healthy countenance. 
Passed a pretty chapel by the lake-side, and an island with 
a farm-house upon it, and corn and pasture fields; but, as 
we went along, we had frequent reason to regret the want 
of English hedgerows and English culture; for the ground 
was often swampy or moorish near the lake where com¬ 
fortable dwellings among green fields might have been. 
When we came near to the end of the lake we had a steep 
hill to climb, so William and I walked; and we had such 
confidence in our horse that we were not afraid to leave 
the car to his guidance with the child in it; we were soon, 
however, alarmed at seeing him trot up the hill a long way 
before us; the child, having raised himself up upon the 
seat, was beating him as hard as he could with a little stick 
which he carried in his hand; and when he saw our eyes 
were on him he sate down, I believe very sorry to resign 
his office : the horse slackened his pace, and no accident 
happened. 

When we had ascended half-way up the hill, directed by 
the man, I took a nearer footpath, and at the top came in 
view of a most impressive scene, a ruined castle ‘on an island 
almost in the middle of the last compartment of the lake, 
backed by a mountain cove, down which came a roaring 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


139 


stream. The castle occupied every foot of the island that 
was visible to us, appearing to rise out of the water; mists 
rested upon the mountain side, with spots of sunshine be¬ 
tween ; there was a mild desolation in the low grounds, a 
solemn grandeur in the mountains, and the castle was wild, 
yet stately, not dismantled of its turrets, nor the walls 
broken down, though completely in ruin. After having 
stood some minutes I joined William on the high road, and 
both wishing to stay longer near this place, we requested 
the man to drive his little boy on to Dalmally, about two 
miles further, and leave the car at the inn. He told us 
that the ruin was called Kilchurn Castle, that it belonged 
to Lord Breadalbane, and had been built by one of the 
ladies of that family for her defence during her Lord’s ab¬ 
sence at the Crusades, for which purpose she levied a tax of 
seven years’ rent upon her tenants ;* he said that from that 
side of the lake it did not appear, in very dry weather, to 
stand upon an island; but that it was possible to go over 
to it without being wet-shod. We were very lucky in see¬ 
ing it after a great flood; for its enchanting effect was 
chiefly owing to its situation in the lake, a decayed palace 
rising out of the plain of waters! I have called it a palace, 
for such feeling it gave to me, though having been built as 
a place of defence, a castle or fortress. We turned again 
and reascended the hill, and sate a long time in the middle 
of it looking on the castle and the huge mountain cove op¬ 
posite, and William, addressing himself to the ruin, poured 
out these verses :— 

Child of loud-throated War! the mountain stream 

Roars in thy hearing; but thy hour of rest 

Is come, and thou art silent in thy age.+ 

* Not very probable. t See Appendix C. 


140 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


We walked up the hill again, and, looking down the vale, 
had a fine view of the lake and islands, resembling the 
views down Windermere, though much less rich. Our 
walk to Dalmally was pleasant: the vale makes a turn to 
the right, beyond the head of the lake, and the village of 
Dalmally, which is, in fact, only a few huts, the manse or 
minister’s house, the chapel, and the inn, stands near the 
river, which flows into the head of the lake. The whole 
vale is very pleasing, the lower part of the hill-sides being 
sprinkled with thatched cottages, cultivated ground in small 
patches near them, which evidently belonged to the cot¬ 
tages. 

We were overtaken by a gentleman'who rode on a beau¬ 
tiful white pony, like Lilly, and was followed by his servant, 
a Highland boy, on another pony, a little creature, not 
much bigger than a large mastiff, on which were slung a 
pair of crutches and a tartan plaid. The gentleman entered 
into conversation with us, and on our telling him that we 
were going to Glen Coe, he advised us, instead of proceed¬ 
ing directly to Tyndrum, the next stage, to go round by 
the outlet of Loch Awe to Loch Etive, and thence to Glen 
Coe. We were glad to change our plan, for we wanted 
much to see more of Loch Awe, and he told us that the 
whole of the way by Loch Etive was pleasant, and the 
road to Tyndrum as dreary as possible; indeed, we could 
see it at that time several miles before us upon the side of 
a bleak mountain; and he said that there was nothing but 
moors and mountains all the way. We reached the inn a 
little before sunset, ordered supper, and I walked out. 
Crossed a bridge to look more nearly at the parsonage-house 
and the chapel, which stands upon a bank close to the 
river, a pretty stream overhung in some parts by trees. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


141 


The vale is very pleasing; but, like all the other Scotch 
vales we had yet seen, it told of its kinship with the moun¬ 
tains and of poverty or some neglect on the part of man. 

Thursday , September ls£—We had been attended at 
supper by a civil boy, whom we engaged to rouse us at six 
o’clock, and to provide us each a basin of milk and bread, 
and have the car ready; all which he did punctually, and 
we were off in good time. The morning was not unpleasant, 
though rather cold, and we had some fear of rain. Crossed 
the bridge, and passed by the manse and chapel, our road 
carrying us back again in the direction we had come; but 
on the opposite side of the river. Passed close to many of 
the houses we had seen on the hill-side, which the lame 
gentleman had told us belonged to Lord Breadalbane, and 
were attached to little farms, or 1 crofts,’ as he called them. 
Lord Breadalbane had lately laid out a part of his estates in 
this way as an experiment, in the hope of preventing dis¬ 
content and emigration. We were sorry we had not an 
opportunity of seeing into these cottages, and of learning 
how far the people were happy or otherwise. The dwell¬ 
ings certainly did not look so comfortable when we were 
near to them as from a distance ; but this might be chiefly 
owing to what the inhabitants did not feel as an evil—the 
dirt about the doors. We saw, however—a sight always 
painful to me—two or three women, each creeping after her 
single cow, while it was feeding on the slips of grass 
between the corn-grounds. Went round the head of the 
lake, and onwards close to the lake-side. Kilchurn Castle 
was always interesting, though not so grand as seen from 
the other side, with its own mountain cove and roaring 
stream. It combined with the vale of Dalmally and the 


142 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


distant hills—a beautiful scene, yet overspread with a gentle 
desolation. As we went further down we lost sight of the 
vale of Dalmally. The castle, which we often stopped to 
look hack upon, was very beautiful seen in combination 
with the opposite shore of the lake—perhaps a little bay, a 
tuft of trees, or a slope of the hill. Travelled under the 
foot of the mountain Cruachan, along an excellent road, 
having the lake close to us on our left, woods overhead, 
and frequent torrents tumbling down the hills. The dis¬ 
tant views across the lake were not peculiarly interesting 
after we were out of sight of Kilchurn Castle, the lake being 
wide, and the opposite shore not rich, and those moun¬ 
tains which we could see were not high. 

Came opposite to the village where we had dined the 
day before, and, losing sight of the body of the lake, pur¬ 
sued the narrow channel or pass,* which is, I believe, three 
miles long, out of which issues the river that flows into 
Loch Etive. We were now enclosed between steep hills, 
on the opposite side entirely bare, on our side bare or 
woody; the branch of the lake generally filling the whole 
area of the vale. It was a pleasing, solitary scene; the 
long reach of naked precipices on the other side rose 
directly out of the water, exceedingly steep, not rugged or 
rocky, but with scanty sheep pasturage and large beds of 
small stones, purple, dove-coloured, or red, such as are called 
Screes in Cumberland and Westmoreland. These beds, or 
rather streams of stones, appeared as smooth as the turf 
itself, nay, I might say, as soft as the feathers of birds, 
which they resembled in colour. There was no building 
on either side of the water; in many parts only just room 
for the road, and on the other shore no footing, as it might 
* The Pass of Awe.— Ed. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


143 


seem, for any creature larger than the mountain sheep, and 
they, in treading amongst the shelving stones, must often 
send them down into the lake below. 

After we had wound for some time through the valley, 
having met neither foot-traveller, horse, nor cart, we started 
at the sight of a single vessel, just as it turned round the 
point of a hill, coming into the reach of the valley where 
we were. She floated steadily through the middle of the 
water, with one large sail spread out, full swollen by the 
breeze, that blew her right towards us. I cannot express 
what romantic images this vessel brought along with her— 
how much more beautiful the mountains appeared, the 
lake how much more graceful. There was one man on 
board, who sate at the helm, and he, having no companion, 
made the boat look more silent than if we could not have 
seen him. I had almost said the ship, for on that narrow 
water it appeared as large as the ships which I have 
watched sailing out of a harbour of the sea. A little fur¬ 
ther on we passed a stone hut by the lake-side, near which 
were many charcoal sacks, and we conjectured that the 
vessel had been depositing charcoal brought from other 
parts of Loch Awe to be carried to the iron-works at Loch 
Etive. A little further on we came to the end of the lake, 
but where exactly it ended was not easy to determine, for 
the river was as broad as the lake, and we could only say 
when it became positively a river by the rushing of the 
water. It is, indeed, a grand stream, the quantity of 
water being very large, frequently forming rapids, and 
always flowing very quickly; but its greatness is short¬ 
lived, for, after a course of three miles, it is lost in the 
great waters of Loch Etive, a sea loch. 

Crossed a bridge, and climbing a hill towards Taynuilt, 


144 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


our baiting-place, we saw a hollow to . the right below us, 
through which the river continued its course between rocks 
and steep banks of wood. William turned aside to look 
into the dell, but I was too much tired. We had left it, 
two or three hundred yards behind, an open river, the hills, 
enclosing the branch of the lake, having settled down into 
irregular slopes. We were glad when we reached Taynuilt, 
a village of huts, with a chapel and one stone house, which 
was the inn. It had begun to rain, and I was almost 
benumbed with the cold, besides having a bad headache ; 
so it rejoiced me to see kind looks on the landlady’s face, 
and that she was willing to put herself in a bustle for our 
comfort; we had a good fire presently, and breakfast was 
set out—eggs, preserved gooseberries, excellent cream, 
cheese, and butter, but no wheat bread, and the oaten 
cakes were so hard I could not chew them. We wished to 
go upon Loch Etive; so, having desired the landlady to 
prepare a fowl for supper, and engaged beds, which she 
promised us willingly—a proof that we were not in the 
great road—we determined to find our way to the lake and 
endeavour to procure a boat. It rained heavily, but we 
went on, hoping the sky would clear up. 

Walked through unenclosed fields, a sort of half-desolate 
country; but when we came to the mouth of the river 
which issues out of Loch Awe, and which we had to cross 
by a ferry, looking up that river we saw that the vale down 
which it flowed was richly wooded and beautiful. 

We were now among familiar fireside names. We could 
see the town of Bunawe, a place of which the old woman 
with whom William lodged ten years at Hawkshead used 
to tell tales half as long as an ancient romance. It is a 
small village or port on the same side of Loch Etive on 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


145 


which we stood, and at a little distance is a house built by 
a Mr. Knott of Coniston Water-head, a partner in the iron- 
foundry at Bunawe, in the service of whose family the old 
woman had spent her youth. It was an ugly yellow-daubed 
building, staring this way and that, but William looked at 
it with pleasure for poor Ann Tyson’s sake. 13 We hailed 
the ferry-boat, and a little boy came to fetch us; he rowed 
up against the stream with all his might for a considerable 
way, and then yielding to it, the boat was shot towards 
the shore almost like an arrow from a bow. It was 
pleasing to observe the dexterity with which the lad man¬ 
aged his oars, glorying in the appearance of danger—for he 
observed us watching him, and afterwards, while he con¬ 
veyed us over, his pride redoubled ; for my part, I was 
completely dizzy with the swiftness of the motion. 

We could not have a boat from the ferry, but were told 
that if we would walk to a house half a mile up the river, 
we had a chance of getting one. I went a part of the way 
with William, and then sate down under the umbrella near 
some houses. A woman came out to talk with me, and 
pressed me to take shelter in her house, which I refused, 
afraid of missing William. She eyed me with extreme 
curiosity, asking fifty questions respecting the object of our 
journey. She told me that it rained most parts of the year 
there, and that there was no chance of fine weather that 
day ; and I believe when William came to tell me that we 
could have a boat, she thought I was half crazed. We 
went down to the shore of the lake, and, after having sate 
some time under a wall, the boatman came to us, and we 
went upon the water. At first it did not rain heavily, and 
the air was not cold, and before we had gone far we re¬ 
joiced that we had not been faint-hearted. The loch is of 


145 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


a considerable width, but the mountains are so very high 
that, whether we were close under them or looked from 
one shore to the other, they maintained their dignity. 
I speak of the higher part of the loch, above the town of 
Bunawe and the large river, for downwards they are but 
hills, and the water spreads out wide towards undetermined 
shores. On our right was the mountain Cruachan, rising 
directly from the lake, and on the opposite side another 
mountain, called Ben Durinish, craggy, and exceedingly 
steep, with wild wood growing among the rocks and stones. 

We crossed the water* which was very rough in the 
middle, but calmer near the shores, and some of the rocky 
basins and little creeks among the rocks were as still as a 
mirror, and they were so beautiful with the reflection of 
the orange-coloured seaweed growing on the stones or 
rocks, that a child, with a child’s delight in gay colours, 
might have danced with joy at the sight of them. It 
never ceased raining, and the tops of the mountains were 
concealed by mists, but as long as we could see across the 
water we were contented; for though little could be seen 
of the true shapes and permanent appearances of the moun¬ 
tains, we saw enough to give us the most exquisite delight: 
the powerful lake which filled the large vale, roaring tor¬ 
rents, clouds floating on the mountain sides, sheep that 
pastured there, sea-birds and land-birds. We sailed a con¬ 
siderable way without coming to any houses or cultivated 
fields. There was no horse-road on either side of the loch, 
but a person on foot, as the boatman told us, might make 
his way at the foot of Ben Durinish, namely on that side 
of the loch on which we were; there was, however, not 
the least track to be seen, and it must be very difficult and 
laborious. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


147 


We happened to say that we were going to Glen Coe, 
which would he the journey of a long day and a half, 
when one of the men, pointing to the head of the loch, 
replied that if we were there we should be but an hour’s 
walk from Glen Coe. Though it continued raining, and 
there was no hope that the rain would cease, we could not 
help wishing to go by that way: it was an adventure; we 
were not afraid of trusting ourselves to the hospitality of 
the Highlanders, and we wanted to give our horse a day’s 
rest, his back having been galled by the saddle. The 
owner of the boat, who understood English much better 
than the other man, his helper, said he would make inquiries 
about the road at a farm-house a little further on. He was 
very ready to talk with us, and was rather an interesting 
companion; he spoke after a slow and solemn manner, in 
book and sermon language and phrases : 

“ A stately speech, such as grave livers do in Scotland use.” 

When we came to the farm-house of which the man had 
spoken, William and he landed to make the necessary 
inquiries. It was a thatched house at the foot of the high 
mountain Ben Durinish—a few patches or little beds of corn 
belonging to it; but the spot was pastoral, the green grass 
growing to the walls of the house. The dwelling-house 
was distinguished from the outer buildings, which were 
numerous, making it look like two or three houses, as is 
common in Scotland, by a chimney and one small window 
with sash-panes; on one side was a little woody glen, with 
a precipitous stream that fell into the bay, which was 
perfectly still, and bordered with the rich orange-colour re¬ 
flected from the sea-weed. Cruachan, on the other side of 
the lake, was exceedingly grand, and appeared of an 


148 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


enormous height, spreading out two large arms that made 
a cove down which fell many streams swoln by the rain, 
and in the hollow of the cove were some huts which looked 
like a village. The top of the mountain was concealed 
from us by clouds, and the mists floated high and low upon 
the sides of it. 

William came back to the boat highly pleased with 
the cheerful hospitality and kindness of the woman of 
the house, who would scarcely permit him and his guide 
to go away without taking some refreshment. She was 
the only person at home, so they could not obtain the 
desired information; but William had been well repaid 
for the trouble of landing; indeed, rainy as it was, I re¬ 
gretted that I had not landed also, for I should have wished 
to bear away in my memory a perfect image of this place, 
—the view from the doors, as well as the simple Highland 
comforts and contrivances which were near it. I think I 
never saw a retirement that would have so completely 
satisfied me, if I had wanted to be altogether shut out from 
the world, and at the same time among the grandest of the 
works of God; but it must be remembered that mountains 
are often so much dignified by clouds, mists, and other 
accidents of weather, that one could not know them again 
in the full sunshine of a summer’s noon. But, whatever 
the mountains may be in their own shapes, the farm-house, 
with its pastoral grounds and corn fields won from the 
mountain, its warm out-houses in irregular stages one above 
another on the side of the hill, the rocks, the stream, and 
sheltering bay, must at all times be interesting objects. 
The household boat lay at anchor, chained to a rock, which, 
like the whole border of the lake, was edged with sea-weed, 
and some fishing-nets were hung upon poles,—affecting 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


149 


images, which led our thoughts out to the wide ocean, yet 
made these solitudes of the mountains bear the impression 
of greater safety and more deep seclusion. 

The rain became so heavy that we should certainly have 
turned back if we had not felt more than usual courage 
from the pleasure we had enjoyed, which raised hope where 
none was. There were some houses a little higher up, 
and we determined to go thither and make further inquiries. 
We could now hardly see to the other side of the lake, 
yet continued to go on, and presently heard some people 
pushing through a thicket close to us, on which the boatman 
called out, ‘There’s one that can tell us something about the 
road to Glen Coe, for he was born there.’ We looked up 
and saw a ragged, lame fellow, followed by some others, 
with a fishing-rod over his shoulder; and he was making 
such good speed through the boughs that one might have 
half believed he was the better for his lame leg. He was 
the head of a company of tinkers, who, as the men told us, 
travel with their fishing-rods as duly as their hammers. 
On being hailed by us the whole company stopped; and 
their lame leader and our boatmen shouted to each other 
in Erse—a savage cry to our ears, in that lonely and romantic 
place. We could not learn from the tinker all we wished 
to know, therefore when we came near to the houses Wil¬ 
liam landed again with the owner of the boat. The rain 
was now so heavy that we could see nothing at all—not 
even the houses whither William was going. 

We had given up all thought of proceeding further at that 
time, but were desirous to know how far that road to 
Glen Coe was practicable for us. They met with an in¬ 
telligent man, who was at work with others in a hay field, 
though it rained so heavily; he gave them the information 


150 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


they desired, and said that there was an acquaintance of 
his between that place and Glen Coe, who, he had no 
doubt, would gladly accommodate us with lodging and 
anything else we might need. When William returned 
to the boat we shaped our course back again down the 
water, leaving the head of Loch Etive not only un¬ 
visited, but unseen—to our great regret. The rain was 
very heavy; the wind had risen, and both wind and 
tide were against us, so that it was hard labour for the 
boatmen to push us on. They kept as close to the shore 
as they could, to be under the wind; but at the doubling 
of many of the rocky points the tide was so strong that it 
was difficult to get on at all, and I was sometimes afraid 
that we should be dashed against the rocks, though I 
believe, indeed, there was not much danger. 

Came down the same side of the lake under Ben Dur- 
inish, and landed at a ferry-house opposite to Bunawe, 
where we gave the men a glass of whisky; but our chief 
motive for landing was to look about the place, which had 
a most wild aspect at that time. It was a low promontory, 
pushed far into the water, narrowing the lake exceedingly; 
in the obscurity occasioned by the mist and rain it appeared 
to be an island; it was stained and weatherbeaten, a rocky 
place, seeming to bear no produce but such as might be 
cherished by cold and storms, lichens or the incrustations 
of sea rocks. We rowed right across the water to the 
mouth of the river of Loch Awe, our boat following the 
ferry-boat which was conveying the tinker crew to the 
other side, whither they were going to lodge, as the men 
told us, in some kiln, which they considered as their right 
and privilege —& lodging always to be found where there 
was any arable land—for every farm has its kiln to dry the 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


151 


corn in : another proof of the wetness of the climate. The 
kilns are built of stone, covered in, and probably as good a 
shelter as the huts in which these Highland vagrants were 
born. They gather sticks or heather for their fire, and, as 
they are obstinate beggars, for the men said they would 
not be denied, they probably have plenty of food with little 
other trouble than that of wandering in search of it, for 
their smutty faces and tinker equipage serve chiefly for a 
passport to a free and careless life. It rained very heavily, 
and the wind blew when we crossed the lake, and their 
boat and ours went tilting over the high waves. They 
made a romantic appearance; three women were of the 
party; two men rowed them over; the lame fellow sate at 
one end of the boat, and his companion at the other, each 
with an enormous fishing-rod, which looked very graceful, 
something like masts to the boat. When we had landed at 
the other side we saw them, after having begged at the 
ferry-house, strike merrily through the fields, no doubt 
betaking themselves to their shelter for the night. 

We were completely wet when we reached the inn; the 
landlady wanted to make a fire for me up-stairs, but I went 
into her own parlour to undress, and her daughter, a pretty 
little girl, who could speak a few words of English, waited 
on me; I rewarded her with one of the penny books 
bought at Dumfries for Johnny, with which she was 
greatly delighted. We had an excellent supper—fresh 
salmon, a fowl, gooseberries and cream, and potatoes; good 
beds ; and the next morning boiled milk and bread, and 
were only charged seven shillings and sixpence for the 
whole—horse, liquor, supper, and the two breakfasts. We 
thought they had made a mistake, and told them so for 
it was only just half as much as we had paid the day 


152 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


before at Dalmally, the case being that Dalmally is in the 
main road of the tourists. The landlady insisted on my 
bringing away a little cup instead of our tin can, which she 
told me had been taken from the car by some children : we 
set no little value on this cup as a memorial of the good 
woman’s honesty and kindness, and hoped to have brought 
it home. ... 

Friday , September 2d .—Departed at about seven o’clock 
this morning, having to travel eight miles down Loch Etive, 
and then to cross a ferry. Our road was at first at a 
considerable distance from the lake, and out of sight of 
it, among undulating hills covered with coppice woods, 
resembling the country between Coniston and Windermere, 
but it afterwards, carried us close to the water’s edge; and 
in this part of our ride we were disappointed. We knew 
that the high mountains were all at the head of the lake, 
therefore had not expected the same awful grandeur which 
we beheld the day before, and perceived by glimpses; but 
the gentleman whom we met with at Dalmally had told us 
that there were many fine situations for gentlemen’s seats 
on this part of the lake, which had made us expect greater 
loveliness near the shores, and better cultivation. It is 
true there are pleasant bays, with grounds prettily sloping 
to the water, and coppice woods, where houses would stand 
in shelter and sun, looking on the lake; but much is yet 
wanting—waste lands to be ploughed, peat-mosses drained, 
hedgerows reared; and the woods" demand a grant of 
longer life than is now their privilege. 

But after we had journeyed about six miles a beautiful 
scene opened upon us. The morning had been gloomy, 
and at this time the sun shone out, scattering the clouds. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


153 


We looked right down the lake, that was covered with 
streams of dazzling sunshine, which revealed the indentings 
of the dark shores. On a bold promontory, on the same 
side of the loch where we were, stood an old castle, an 
irregular tall building, not without majesty; and beyond, 
with leagues of water between, our eyes settled upon the 
island of Mull, a high mountain, green in the sunshine, 
and overcast with clouds,—an object as inviting to the 
fancy as the evening sky in the west, and, though of a ter¬ 
restrial green, almost as visionary. We saw that it was an 
island of the sea, but were unacquainted with its name; it 
was of a gem-like colour, and as soft as the sky. The shores 
of Loch Etive, in their moorish, rocky wildness, their 
earthly bareness, as they lay in length before us, produced 
a contrast which, with the pure sea, the brilliant sunshine, 
the long distance, contributed to the aerial and romantic 
power with which the mountain island was invested. 

Soon after, we came to the ferry. The boat being on 
the other shore, we had to wait a considerable time, though 
the water was not wide, and our call was heard immediately. 
The boatmen moved with surly tardiness, as if glad to 
make us know they were our masters. At this point the 
lake was narrowed to the breadth of not a very wide river 
by a round ear or promontory on the side on which we 
were, and a low ridge of peat-mossy ground on the other. 
It was a dreary place, shut out from the beautiful pro¬ 
spect of the Isle of Mull, and Dunstaffnage Castle—so the 
fortress was called. Four or five men came over with the 
boat; the horse was unyoked, and being harshly driven 
over rough stones, which were as slippery as ice, with slimy 
seaweed, he was in terror before he reached the boat, and 
they completed the work by beating and pushing him by 


154 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


main force over the ridge of the boat, for there was no 
open end, or plank, or any other convenience for shipping 
either horse or carriage. I was very uneasy when we were 
launched on the water. A blackguard-looking fellow, 
blind of one eye, which I could not but think had been put 
out in some strife or other, held him by force like a horse- 
breaker, while the poor creature fretted, and stamped with 
his feet against the bare boards, frightening himself more 
and more with every stroke; and when we were in the 
middle of the water I would have given a thousand pounds 
to have been sure that we should reach the other side in 
safety. The tide was rushing violently in, making a 
strong eddy with the stream of the loch, so that the 
motion of the boat and the noise and foam of the 
waves terrified him still more, and we thought it would be 
impossible to keep him in the boat, and when we were just 
far enough from the shore to have been all drowned he 
became furious, and, plunging desperately, his hind-legs 
were in the water, then, recovering himself, he beat with 
such force against the boat-side that we were afraid he 
should send his feet through. All the while the men were 
swearing terrible oaths, and cursing the poor beast, redoub¬ 
ling their curses when we reached the landing-place, and 
whipping him ashore in brutal triumph. 

We had only room for half a heartful of joy when we 
set foot on dry land, for another ferry was to be crossed 
five miles further. We had intended breakfasting at this 
house if it had been a decent place; but after this affair 
we were glad to pay the men off and depart, though I was 
not well, and needed refreshment. The people made us 
more easy by assuring us that we might easily swim the 
horse oyer the next ferry. The first mile or two of our 



A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


155 


road was over a peat moss; we then came near to the sea¬ 
shore, and had beautiful views backwards towards the 
Island of Mull and Dunstaffnage Castle, and forward 
where the sea ran up between the hills. In this part, on 
the opposite side of the small bay or elbow of the sea, was 
a gentleman’s house on a hill-side,* and a building on the 
hill-top which we took for a lighthouse, but were told that 
it belonged to the mansion, and was only lighted up on 
rejoicing days—the laird’s birthday, for instance. 

Before we had left the peat-moss to travel close to the 
sea-shore we delighted ourselves with looking on a range of 
green hills, in shape like those bordering immediately upon 
the sea, abrupt but not high; they were, in fact, a con¬ 
tinuation of the same; but retiring backwards, and rising 
from the black peat-moss. These hills were of a delicate 
green, uncommon in Scotland ; a foaming rivulet ran down 
one part, and near it lay two herdsmen full in the sun, 
with their dogs, among a troop of black cattle which were 
feeding near, and sprinkled over the whole range of hills— 
a pastoral scene, to our eyes the more beautiful from know¬ 
ing what a delightful prospect it must overlook. We now 
came under the steeps by the sea-side, which were bold 
rocks, mouldering scars, or fresh with green grass. Under 
the brow of one of these rocks was a burying-ground, with 
many upright grave-stones and hay-cocks between, and 
fenced round by a wall neatly sodded. Near it were one 
or two houses, with out-houses under a group of trees, but 
no chapel. The neatness of the burying-ground would in 
itself have been noticeable in any part of Scotland where 
we have been; but it was more interesting from its situa¬ 
tion than for its own sake—within the sound of the gentlest 


* Lochnell House. 


156 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


waves of the sea, and near so many quiet and beautiful 
objects. There was a range of hills opposite, which we 
were here first told were the hills of Morven, so much sung 
of by Ossian. We consulted with some men respecting 
the ferry, who advised us by all means to send our horse 
round the loch, and go ourselves over in the boat: they 
were very civil, and seemed to be intelligent men, yet all 
disagreed about the length of the loch, though we were 
not two miles from it: one said it was only six miles long, 
another ten or fifteen, and afterwards a man whom we met 
told us it was twenty. 

We lost sight of the sea for some time, crossing a half- 
cultivated space, then reached Loch Creran, a large 
irregular sea loch, with low sloping banks, coppice woods, 
and uncultivated grounds, with a scattering of corn fields; 
as it appeared to us, very thinly inhabited : mountains at 
a distance. We found only women at home at the 
ferry-house. I was faint and cold, and went to sit by 
the fire, but, though very much needing refreshment, 
I had not heart to eat anything there—the house was so 
dirty, and there were so many wretchedly dirty women 
and children : yet perhaps I might have got over the dirt, 
though I believe there are few ladies who would not have been 
turned sick by it, if there had not been a most disgusting 
combination of laziness and coarseness in the countenances 
and manners of the women, though two of them were very 
handsome. It was a small hut, and four women were 
living in it: one, the mother of the children and mistress 
of the house ; the others I supposed to be lodgers, or per¬ 
haps servants; but there was no work amongst them. 
They had just taken from the fire a great pan full of 
potatoes, which they mixed up with milk, all helping them- 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


157 


selves out of the same vessel, and the little children put in 
their dirty hands to dig out of the mess at their pleasure. 
I thought to myself, How light the labour of such a house 
as this ! Little sweeping, no washing of floors, and as to 
scouring the table, I believe it was a thing never thought 
of. 

After a long time the ferryman came home ; but we had 
to wait yet another hour for the tide. In the meanwhile 
our horse took fright in consequence of his terror at the 
last ferry, ran away with the car, and dashed out umbrellas, 
greatcoats, etc.; but luckily he was stopped before any 
serious mischief was done. We had determined, whatever 
it cost, not to trust ourselves with him again in the boat; 
but sending him round the lake seemed almost out of the 
question, there being no road, and probably much difficulty 
in going round with a horse ; so after some deliberation 
with the ferryman it was agreed that he should swim over. 
The usual place of ferrying was very broad, but he was led 
to the point of a peninsula at a little distance. It being 
an unusual affair,—indeed, the people of the house said 
that he was the first horse that had ever swum over,—we 
had several men on board, and the mistress of the house 
offered herself as an assistant: we supposed for the sake 
of a share in eighteen-pennyworth of whisky which her 
husband called for without ceremony, and of which she and 
the young lasses, who had helped to push the boat into 
the water, partook as freely as the men. At first I feared 
for the horse : he was frightened, and strove to push him¬ 
self under the boat; but I was soon tolerably easy, for he 
went on regularly and well, and after from six to ten 
minutes swimming landed in safety on the other side. 
Poor creature! he stretched out his nostrils and stared 


158 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


wildly while the man was trotting him about to warm 
him, and when he put him into the car he was afraid of 
the sound of the wheels. For some time our road was up 
a glen, the banks chiefly covered with coppice woods, an 
unpeopled, but, though without grandeur, not a dreary 
tract. 

Came to a moor and descended into a broad vale, which 
opened to Loch Linnhe, an arm of the sea, the prospect 
being shut in by high mountains, on which the sun was 
shining among mists and resting clouds. A village and 
chapel stood on the opposite hill; the hills sloped prettily 
down to the bed of the vale, a large level area—the grounds 
in general cultivated, but not rich. We went perhaps half 
a mile down the vale, when our road struck right across it 
towards the village on the hill-side. We overtook a tall, 
well-looking man, seemingly about thirty years of age, 
driving a cart, of whom we inquired concerning the road, 
and the distance to Portnacroish, our baiting-place. We 
made further inquiries respecting our future journey, which 
he answered in an intelligent manner, being perfectly 
acquainted with the geography of Scotland. He told us 
that the village which we saw before us and the whole tract 
of country was called Appin. William said that it was a 
pretty wild place, to which the man replied, ‘ Sir, it is a 
very bonny place if you did but see it on a fine day/ mis¬ 
taking William’s praise for a half-censure; I must say, 
however, that we hardly ever saw a thoroughly pleasing 
place in Scotland, which had not something of wildness in 
its aspect of one sort or other. It came from many causes 
here : the sea, or sea-loch, of which we only saw as it were 
a glimpse crossing the vale at the foot of it, the high 
mountains on the opposite shore, the unenclosed hills on 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


159 


each side of the vale, with black cattle feeding on them, 
the simplicity of the scattered huts, the half-sheltered, 
half-exposed situation of the village, the imperfect culture 
of the fields, the distance from any city or large town, and 
the very names of Morven and Appin, particularly at such 
a time, when old Ossian’s old friends, sunbeams and mists, 
as like ghosts as any in the mid-afternoon could be, were 
keeping company with them. William did all he could to 
efface the unpleasant impression he had made on the High¬ 
lander, and not without success, for he was kind and com¬ 
municative when we walked up the hill towards the village. 
He had been a great traveller, in Ireland and elsewhere; 
but I believe that he had visited no place so beautiful to 
his eyes as his native home, the strath of Appin under the 
heathy hills. 

We arrived at Portnacroish soon after parting from 
this man. It is a small village—a few huts and an indif¬ 
ferent inn by the side of the loch. Ordered a fowl for 
dinner, had a fire lighted, and went a few steps from the 
door up the road, and turning aside into a field stood at 
the top of a low eminence, from which, looking down the 
loch to the sea through a long vista of hills and mountains, 
we beheld one of the most delightful prospects that, even 
when we dream of fairer worlds than this, it is possible 
for us to conceive in our hearts. A covering of clouds 
rested on the long range of the hills of Morven, mists 
floated very near to the water on their sides, and were 
slowly shifting about : yet the sky was clear, and the 
sea, from the reflection of the sky, of an ethereal or 
sapphire blue, which was intermingled in many places, and 
mostly by gentle gradations, with beds of bright dazzling 
sunshine; green islands lay on the calm water, islands far 


160 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


greener, for so it seemed, than the grass of other places ; and 
from their excessive beauty, their unearthly softness, and the 
great distance of many of them, they made us think of the 
islands of the blessed in the Vision of Mirza—a resemblance 
more striking from the long tract of mist which rested on 
the top of the steeps of Morven. The view was endless, 
and though not so wide, had something of the intricacy of 
the islands and water of Loch Lomond as we saw them 
from Inch-ta-vanach; and yet how different! At Loch 
Lomond we could never forget that it was an inland lake 
of fresh water, nor here that it was the sea itself, though 
among multitudes of hills. Immediately below us, on an 
island a few yards from the shore, stood an old keep or 
fortress;* the vale of Appin opened to the water-side, with 
cultivated fields and cottages. If there were trees near 
the shore they contributed little to the delightful effect of 
the scene : it was the immeasurable water, the lofty mist- 
covered steeps of Morven to the right, the emerald islands 
without a bush or tree, the celestial colour and brightness 
of the calm sea, and the innumerable creeks and bays, the 
communion of land and water as far as the eye could 
travel. My description must needs be languid; for the 
sight itself was too fair to be remembered. We sate a 
long time upon the hill, and pursued our journey at about 
four o’clock. Had an indifferent dinner, but the cheese 
was so excellent that William wished to buy the re¬ 
mainder ; but the woman would not consent to sell it, and 
forced us to accept a large portion of it. 

We had to travel up the loch, leaving behind us the 
beautiful scene which we had viewed with such delight 
before dinner. Often, while we were climbing the hill, did 
* Castle Stalker. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


161 


we stop to look back, and when we had gone twenty or 
thirty yards beyond the point where we had the last view 
of it, we left the car to the care of some children who were 
coming from school, and went to take another farewell, 
always in the hope of bearing away a more substantial 
remembrance. Travelled for some miles along a road which 
was so smooth it was more like a gravel walk in a gentle¬ 
man’s grounds than a public highway. Probably the country 
is indebted for this excellent road to Lord Tweeddale,* now 
a prisoner in France. His house stands upon an eminence 
within a mile of Portnacroish, commanding the same pro¬ 
spect which I have spoken of, except that it must lose 
something in not having the old fortress at the foot of it— 
indeed, it is not to be seen at all from the house or grounds. 

We travelled under steep hills, stony or smooth, with 
coppice-woods and patches of cultivated land, and houses 
here and there ; and at every hundred yards, I may almost 
venture to say, a streamlet, narrow as a ribbon, came 
tumbling down, and, crossing our road, fell into the lake 
below. On the opposite shore, the hills—namely, the con¬ 
tinuation of the hills of Morven—were stern and severe, 
rising like upright walls from the water’s edge, and in 
colour more resembling rocks than hills, as they appeared 
to us. We did not see any house, or any place where it 
was likely a house could stand, for many miles; but as 
the loch was broad we could not perhaps distinguish the 
objects thoroughly. A little after sunset our road led us 
from the vale of the loch. We came to a small river, a 
bridge, a mill, and some cottages at the foot of a hill, and 
close to the loch. 

* George, seventh Marquis of Tweeddale, being in France in 1803, was 
detained by Bonaparte, and died at Verdun, 9th August 1804.— Ed. 

L 


162 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


Did not cross the bridge, but went up the brook, hav¬ 
ing it on our left, and soon found ourselves in a retired 
valley, scattered over with many grey huts, and surrounded 
on every side by green hills. The hay grounds in the 
middle of the vale were unenclosed, which was enough 
to keep alive the Scottish wildness, here blended with ex¬ 
ceeding beauty ; for there were trees growing irregularly or 
in clumps all through the valley, rocks or stones here and 
there, which, with the people at work, hay-cocks sprinkled 
over the fields, made the vale look full and populous. It 
was a sweet time of the evening: the moon was up; but 
there was yet so much of day that her light was not per¬ 
ceived. Our road was through open fields; the people 
suspended their work as we passed along, and leaning on 
their pitchforks or rakes, with their arms at their sides, 
or hanging down, some in one way, some in another, and 
no two alike, they formed most beautiful groups, the out¬ 
lines of their figures being much more distinct than by day, 
and all that might have been harsh or unlovely softened 
down. The dogs were, as usual, attendant on their mas¬ 
ters, and, watching after us, they barked aloud; yet even 
their barking hardly disturbed the quiet of the place. 

I cannot say how long this vale was; it made the 
larger half of a circle, or a curve deeper than that of half 
a circle, before it opened again upon the loch. It was 
less thoroughly cultivated and woody after the last 
turning—the hills steep and lofty. We met a very tall 
stout man, a fine figure, in a Highland bonnet, with a 
little girl, driving home their cow: he accosted us, saying 
that we were late travellers, and that we had yet four 
miles to go before we should reach Ballachulish—a long 
way, uncertain as we were respecting our accommodations. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


163 


He told us that the vale was called the Strath of Duror, and 
when we said it was a pretty place, he answered, Indeed it 
was, and that they lived very comfortably there, for they had 
a good master, Lord Tweeddale, whose imprisonment he 
lamented, speaking earnestly of his excellent qualities. At 
the end of the vale we came close upon a large bay of the 
loch, formed by a rocky hill, a continuation of the ridge 
of high hills on the left side of the strath, making a very 
grand promontory, under which was a hamlet, a cluster of 
huts, at the water’s edge, with their little fleet of fishing- 
boats at anchor, and behind, among the rocks, a hundred 
slips of corn, slips and patches, often no bigger than a gar¬ 
den such as a child, eight years old, would make for sport: 
it might have been the work of a small colony from China. 
There was something touching to the heart in this appear¬ 
ance of scrupulous industry, and excessive labour of the soil, 
in a country where hills and mountains, and even valleys, 
are left to the care of nature and the pleasure of the cattle 
that feed among them. It was, indeed, a Very interesting 
place, the more so being in perfect contrast with the few 
houses at the entrance of the strath—a sea hamlet, without 
trees, under a naked stony mountain, yet perfectly sheltered, 
standing in the middle of a large bay which half the winds 
that travel over the lake can never visit. The other, a 
little bowery spot, with its river, bridge, and mill, might 
have been a hundred miles from the sea-side. 

The moon was now shining, and, though it reminded 
us how far the evening was advanced, we stopped for many 
minutes before we could resolve to go on; we saw nothing 
stirring, neither men, women, nor cattle; but the linen 
was still bleaching by the stony rivulet, which ran near 
the houses in water-breaks and tiny cataracts. For the 


164 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


first half mile after we had left this scene there was no¬ 
thing remarkable; and afterwards we could only see the 
hills, the sky, the moon, and moonlight water. When we 
came within, it might be, half a mile of Ballachulish, the 
place where we were to lodge, the loch narrowed very 
much, the hills still continuing high. I speak inaccu¬ 
rately, for it split into two divisions, the one along which 
we went being called Loch Leven. 

The road grew very bad, and we had an anxious journey 
till we saw a light before us, which with great joy we 
assured ourselves was from the inn; but what was our 
distress when, on going a few steps further, we came to a 
bridge half broken down, with bushes laid across to prevent 
travellers from going over. After some perplexity we 
determined that I should walk on to the house before us— 
for we could see that the bridge was safe for foot-passengers 
—and ask for assistance. By great good luck, at this very 
moment four or five men came along the road towards us 
and offered to help William in driving the car through the 
water, which was not very deep at that time, though, only 
a few days before, the damage had been done to the bridge 
by a flood. 

I walked on to the inn, ordered tea, and was conducted 
into a lodging room. I desired to have a fire, and was 
answered with the old scruple about ‘ giving fire,’ with, at 
the same time, an excuse ‘ that it was so late,’—the girl, 
however, would ask the landlady, who was lying-in; the fire 
was brought immediately, and from that time the girl was 
very civil. I was not, however, quite at ease, for William 
stayed long, and I was going to leave my fire to seek after 
him, when I heard him at the door with the horse and 
car. The horse had taken fright with the roughness of 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND . 


165 


the river-bed and the rattling of the wheels—the second 
fright in consequence of the ferry—and the men had been 
obliged to unyoke him and drag the car through, a trouble¬ 
some affair for William; but he talked less of the trouble 
and alarm than of the pleasure he had felt in having met 
with such true good-will and ready kindness in the High¬ 
landers. They drank their glass of whisky at the door, wish¬ 
ing William twenty good wishes, and asking him twice as 
many questions,—if he was married, if he had an estate, 
where he lived, etc. etc. This inn is the ferry-house on 
the main road up into the Highlands by Fort-William, 
and here Coleridge, though unknown to us, had slept three 
nights before.* 

Saturday , September 3d .—When we have arrived at an un¬ 
known place by moonlight, it is never a moment of indiffer¬ 
ence when I quit it again with the morning light, especially 
if the objects have appeared beautiful, or in any other way 
impressive or interesting. I have kept back, unwilling to 
go to the window, that I might not lose the picture taken 
to my pillow at night. So it was at Ballachulish : and 
instantly I felt that the passing away of my own fancies 
was a loss. The place had appeared exceedingly wild by 
moonlight; I had mistaken corn fields for naked rocks, and 
the lake had appeared narrower and the hills more steep 
and lofty than they really were. 

We rose at six o’clock, and took a basin of milk before 
we set forward on our journey to Glen Coe. It was a 
delightful morning, the road excellent, and we were in good 
spirits, happy that we had no more ferries to cross, and 
pleased with the thought that we were going among the 
grand mountains which we saw before us at the head of 
* See Appendix D. 


168 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


the loch. We travelled close to the water’s edge, and 
were rolling along a smooth road, when the horse suddenly 
backed, frightened by the upright shafts of a roller rising 
from behind the wall of a field adjoining the road. William 
pulled, whipped, and struggled in vain ; we both leapt upon 
the ground, and the horse dragged the car after him, he 
going backwards down the bank of the loch, and it was 
turned over, half in the water, the horse lying on his back, 
struggling in the harness, a frightful sight! I gave up 
everything; thought that the horse would be lamed, and 
the car broken to pieces. Luckily a man came up in the 
same moment, and assisted William in extricating the 
horse, and, after an hour’s delay, with the help of strings 
and pocket-handkerchiefs, we mended the harness and set 
forward again, William leading the poor animal all the 
way, for the regular beating of the waves frightened him, 
and any little gushing stream that crossed the road would 
have sent him off. The village where the blacksmith 
lived was before us—a few huts under the mountains, and, 
as it seemed, at the head of the loch; but it runs further 
up to the left, being narrowed by a hill above the village, 
near which, at the edge of the water, was a slate quarry, 
and many large boats with masts, on the water below, 
high mountains shutting in the prospect, which stood in 
single, distinguishable shapes, yet clustered together—simple 
and bold in their forms, and their surfaces of all characters 
and all colours—some that looked as if scarified by fire, others 
green; and there was one that might have been blasted by 
an eternal frost, its summit and sides for a considerable 
way down being as white as hoar-frost at eight o’clock on 
a winter’s morning. No clouds were on the hills; the sun 
shone bright, but the wind blew fresh and cold. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


167 


When we reached the blacksmith’s shop, I left William 
to help to take care of the horse, and went into the house. 
The mistress, with a child in her arms and two or three 
running about, received me very kindly, making many 
apologies for the dirty house, which she partly attributed 
to its being Saturday ; but I could plainly see that it was 
dirt of all days. I sate in the midst of it with great 
delight, for the woman’s benevolent, happy countenance 
almost converted her slovenly and lazy way of leaving all 
things to take care of themselves into a comfort and a 
blessing. 

It was not a Highland hut, but a slated house built by 
the master of the quarry for the accommodation of his 
blacksmith,—the shell of an English cottage, as if left un¬ 
finished by the workmen, without plaster, and with floor 
of mud. Two beds, with not over-clean bedclothes, were 
in the room. Luckily for me, there was a good fire and a 
boiling kettle. The woman was very sorry she had no 
butter; none was to be had in the village : she gave me 
oaten and barley bread. We talked over the fire; I 
answered her hundred questions, and in my turn put some 
to her. She asked me, as usual, if I was married, how 
many brothers I had, etc. etc. I told her that William 
was married, and had a fine boy ; to which she replied, 
‘ And the man’s a decent man too.’ Her next-door neigh¬ 
bour came in with a baby on her arm, to request that I 
would accept of some fish, which I broiled in the ashes. 
She joined in our conversation, but with more shyness 
than her neighbour, being a very young woman. She 
happened to say that she was a stranger in that place, and 
had been bred and born a long way off. On my asking 
her where, she replied, ‘ At Leadhills ;’ and when I told 


168 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


her that I had been there, a joy lighted up her countenance 
which I shall never forget, and when she heard that it was 
only a fortnight before, her eyes filled with tears. I was 
exceedingly affected with the simplicity of her manners ; 
her tongue was now let loose, and she would have talked 
for ever of Leadhills, of her mother, of the quietness of the 
people in general, and the goodness of Mrs. Otto, who, she 
told me, was a ‘ varra discreet woman/ She was sure we 
should be ‘ well put up ’ at Mrs. Otto’s, and praised her 
house and furniture ; indeed, it seemed she thought all 
earthly comforts were gathered together under the bleak 
heights that surround the villages of Wanlockhead and 
Leadhills : and afterwards, when I said it was a wild 
country thereabouts, she even seemed surprised, and said it 
was not half so wild as where she lived now. One cir¬ 
cumstance which she mentioned of Mrs. Otto I must record, 
both in proof of her ‘ discretion,’ and the sobriety of the 
people at Leadhills, namely, that no liquor was ever drunk 
in her house after a certain hour of the night—I have for¬ 
gotten what hour; but it was an early one, I am sure not 
later than ten. 

The blacksmith, who had come in to his breakfast, 
was impatient to finish our job, that he might go out 
into the hay-field, for, it being a fine day, every plot of 
hay-ground was scattered over with hay-makers. On my 
saying that I guessed much of their hay must be spoiled, 
he told me no, for that they had high winds, which dried 
it quickly,—the people understood the climate, ‘ were clever 
at the work, and got it in with a blink.’ He hastily 
swallowed his breakfast, dry bread and a basin of weak tea 
without sugar, and held his baby on his knee till he had 
done. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


169 


The women and I were again left to the fireside, and there 
were no limits to their joy in me, for they discovered 
another bond of connexion. I lived in the same part of 
England from which Mr. Rose, the superintendent of the 
slate-quarries, and his wife, had come. ‘ Oh! ’ said Mrs. 
Stuart—so her neighbour called her, they not giving each 
other^their Christian names, as is common in Cumberland 
and Westmoreland,—‘ Oh ! * said she, ‘ what would not I give 
to see anybody that came from within four or five miles of 
Leadhills! ’ They both exclaimed that I must see Mrs. 
Rose j she would make much of me—she would have given 
me tea and bread and butter and a good breakfast. I 
learned from the two women, Mrs. Stuart and Mrs. Duncan 
—so the other was called—that Stuart had come from Lead- 
hills for the sake of better wages, to take the place of 
Duncan, who had resigned his office of blacksmith to the 
quarries, as far as I could learn, in a pet, intending to go 
to America, that his wife was averse to go, and that the 
scheme, for this cause and through other difficulties, had 
been given up. He appeared to be a good-tempered man, 
and made us a most reasonable charge for mending the car. 
His wife told me that they must give up the house in a 
short time to the other blacksmith ; she did not know 
whither they should go, but her husband being a good 
workman, could find employment anywhere. She hurried 
me out to introduce me to Mrs. Rose, who was at work in 
the hay-field; she was exceedingly glad to see one of her 
country-women, and entreated that I would go up to her 
house. It was a substantial plain house, that would have 
held half-a-dozen of the common huts. She conducted me 
into a sitting-room up-stairs, and set before me red and 
white wine, with the remnant of a loaf of wheaten bread, 


170 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


which she took out of a cupboard in the sitting-room, and 
some delicious butter. She was a healthy and cheerful- 
looking woman, dressed like one of our country lasses, and 
had certainly had no better education than Aggy Ashburner, 
but she was as a chief in this secluded place, a Madam of 
the village, and seemed to be treated with the utmost re¬ 
spect. 

In our way to and from the house we met several 
people who interchanged friendly greetings with her, but 
always as with one greatly superior. She attended me 
back to the blacksmith’s, and would not leave me till she 
had seen us set forward again on our journey. Mrs. 
Duncan and Mrs. Stuart shook me cordially, nay, affec¬ 
tionately, by the hand. I tried to prevail upon the former, 
who had been my hostess, to accept of some money, but 
in vain; she would not take a farthing, and though I 
told her it was only to buy something for her little daughter, 
even seemed grieved that I should think it possible. I 
forgot to mention that while the blacksmith was repairing 
the car, we walked to the slate-quarry, where we saw 
again some of the kind creatures who had helped us in our 
difficulties the night before. The hovel under which they 
split their slates stood upon an out-jutting rock, a part of 
the quarry rising immediately out of the water, and com¬ 
manded a fine prospect down the loch below Ballachulish, 
and upwards towards the grand mountains, and the other 
horn of the vale where the lake was concealed. The 
blacksmith drove our car about a mile of the road ; we 
then hired a man and horse to take me and the car to the 
top of Glen Coe, being afraid that if the horse backed or 
took fright we might be thrown down some precipice. 

But before we departed we could not resist our inclina- 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


17 


tion to climb up the hill which I have mentioned as ap¬ 
pearing to terminate the loch. The mountains, though 
inferior to those of Glen Coe, on the other side are very 
majestic; and the solitude in which we knew the unseen 
lake was bedded at their feet was enough to excite our 
longings. We climbed steep after steep, far higher than 
they appeared to us, and I was going to give up the ac¬ 
complishment of our aim, when a glorious sight on the 
mountain before us made me forget my fatigue. A slight 
shower had come on, its skirts falling upon us, and half the 
opposite side of the mountain was wrapped up in rainbow 
light, covered as by a veil with one dilated rainbow : so 
it continued for some minutes; and the shower and rainy 
clouds passed away as suddenly as they had come, and the 
sun shone again upon the tops of all the hills. In the 
meantime we reached the wished-for point, and saw to the 
head of the loch. Perhaps it might not be so beautiful as 
we had imaged it in our thoughts, but it was beautiful 
enough not to disappoint us,—a narrow deep valley, a per¬ 
fect solitude, without house or hut. One of the hills was 
thinly sprinkled with Scotch firs, which appeared to be 
the survivors of a large forest : they were the first natural 
wild Scotch firs we had seen. Though thinned of their 
numbers, and left, comparatively, to a helpless struggle with 
the elements, we were much struck with the gloom, and 
even grandeur, of the trees. 

Hastened back again to join the car, but were tempted 
to go a little out of our way to look at a nice white house 
belonging to the laird of Glen Coe, which stood sweetly in 
a green field under the hill near some tall trees and coppice 
woods. At this house the horrible massacre of Glen Coe 
began, which we did not know when we were there; but 


172 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


the house must have been rebuilt since that time. We 
had a delightful walk through fields, among copses, and by 
a river-side : we could have fancied ourselves in some part 
of the north of England unseen before, it was so much 
like it, and yet so different. I must not forget one place 
on the opposite side of the water, where we longed to live 
—a snug white house on the mountain-side, surrounded by 
its own green fields and woods, the high mountain above, 
the loch below, and inaccessible but by means of boats. 
A beautiful spot indeed it was ; but in the retired parts of 
Scotland a comfortable white house is itself such a pleasant 
sight, that I believe, without our knowing how or why, it 
makes us look with a more loving eye on the fields and 
trees than for their own sakes they deserve. 

At about one o’clock we set off, William on our own horse, 
and I with my Highland driver. He was perfectly ac¬ 
quainted with the country, being a sort of carrier or carrier- 
merchant or shopkeeper, going frequently to Glasgow with 
his horse and cart to fetch and carry goods and merchandise. 
He knew the name of every hill, almost every rock ; and I 
made good use of his knowledge; but partly from laziness, 
and still more because it was inconvenient, I took no notes, 
and now I am little better for what he told me. He spoke 
English tolerably; but seldom understood what was said 
to him without a ‘ What’s your wull ? ’ We turned up to 
the right, and were at the foot of the glen—the laird’s 
house cannot be said to be in the glen. The afternoon was 
delightful,—the sun shone, the mountain-tops were clear, 
the lake glittered in the great vale behind us, and the 
stream of Glen Coe flowed down to it glittering among 
alder-trees. The meadows of the glen were of the freshest 
green; one new-built stone house in the first reach, some 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND . 


173 


huts, hillocks covered with wood, alder-trees scattered all 
over. Looking backward, we were reminded of Patter- 
dale and the head of Ulswater, hut forward the greatness 
of the mountains overcame every other idea. 

The impression was, as we advanced up to the head of 
this first reach, as if the glen were nothing, its loneliness 
and retirement—as if it made up no part of my feeling : 
the mountains were all in all. That which fronted us— 
I have forgotten its name—was exceedingly lofty, the 
surface stony, nay, the whole mountain was one mass of 
stone, wrinkled and puckered up together. At the second 
and last reach—for it is not a winding vale—it makes a 
quick turning almost at right angles to the first; and now 
we are in the depths of the mountains ; no trees in the 
glen, only green pasturage for sheep, and here and there a 
plot of hay-ground, and something that tells of former 
cultivation. I observed this to the guide, who said that 
formerly the glen had had many inhabitants, and that 
there, as elsewhere in the Highlands, there had been a 
great deal of corn where now the lands were left waste, 
and nothing fed upon them but cattle. I cannot attempt 
to describe the mountains. I can only say that I thought 
those on our right—for the other side was only a continued 
high ridge or craggy barrier, broken along the top into 
petty spiral forms—were the grandest I had ever seen. 
It seldom happens that mountains in a very clear air look 
exceedingly high, but these, though we could see the whole 
of them to their very summits, appeared to me more 
majestic in their own nakedness than our imaginations could 
have conceived them to be, had they been half hidden by 
clouds, yet showing some of their highest pinnacles. They 
were such forms as Milton might be supposed to have had 


174 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


in his mind when he applied to Satan that sublime expres¬ 
sion— 

‘ His stature reached the sky.’ 

The first division of the glen, as I have said, was scattered 
over with rocks, trees, and woody hillocks, and cottages 
were to be seen here and there. The second division is 
bare and stony, huge mountains on all sides, with a slender 
pasturage in the bottom of the valley; and towards the 
head of it is a small lake or tarn, and near the tarn a 
single inhabited dwelling, and some unfenced hay-ground 
—a simple impressive scene! Our road frequently crossed 
large streams of stones, left by the mountain-torrents, 
losing all appearance of a road. After we had passed the 
tarn the glen became less interesting, or rather the moun¬ 
tains, from the manner in which they are looked at; but 
again, a little higher up, they resume their grandeur. 
The river is, for a short space, hidden between steep rocks : 
we left the road, and, going to the top of one of the rocks, 
saw it foaming over stones, or lodged in dark black dens ; 
birch-trees grew on the inaccessible banks, and a few old 
Scotch firs. towered above them. At the entrance of the 
glen the mountains had been all without trees, but here 
the birches climb very far up the side of one of them 
opposite to us, half concealing a rivulet, which came 
tumbling down as white as snow from the very top of the 
mountain. Leaving the rock, we ascended a hill which 
terminated the glen. We often stopped to look behind 
at the majestic company of mountains we had left. Before 
us was no single paramount eminence, but a mountain 
waste, mountain beyond mountain, and a barren hollow or 
basin into which we were descending. 

We parted from our companion at the door of a whisky 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


175 


hovel, a building which, when it came out of the work¬ 
men’s hands with its unglassed windows, would, in that 
forlorn region, have been little better than a howling 
place for the winds, and was now half unroofed. On 
seeing a smoke, I exclaimed, ‘ Is it possible any people can 
live there % ’ when at least half a dozen, men, women, and 
children, came to the door. They were about to rebuild 
the hut, and I suppose that they, or some other poor crea¬ 
tures, would dwell there through the winter, dealing out 
whisky to the starved travellers. The sun was now set¬ 
ting, the air very cold, the sky clear; I could have fancied 
that it was winter-time, with hard frost. Our guide 
pointed out King’s House to us, our resting-place for the 
night. We could just distinguish the house at the bottom 
of the moorish hollow or basin—I call it so, for it was 
nearly as broad as long—lying before us, with three miles 
of naked road winding through it, every foot of which we 
could see. The road was perfectly white, making a dreary 
contrast with the ground, which was of a dull earthy 
brown. Long as the line of road appeared before us, we 
could scarcely believe it to be three miles—I suppose owing 
to its being unbroken by any one object, and the moor 
naked as the road itself, but we found it the longest three 
miles we had yet travelled, for the surface was so stony we 
had to walk most of the way. 

The house looked respectable at a distance—a large square 
building, cased in blue slates to defend it from storms,—but 
when we came clpse to it the outside forewarned us of the 
poverty and misery within. Scarce a blade of grass could 
be seen growing upon the open ground; the heath-plant 
itself found no nourishment there, appearing as if it had 
but sprung up to be blighted. There was no enclosure for 


176 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


a cow, no appropriated ground but a small plot like a church¬ 
yard, in which were a few starveling dwarfish potatoes, which 
had, no doubt, been raised by means of the dung left by 
travellers’ horses : they had not come to blossoming, and 
whether they would either yield fruit or blossom I know 
not. The first thing we saw on entering the door was two 
sheep hung up, as if just killed from the barren moor, 
their bones hardly sheathed in flesh. After we had waited 
a few minutes, looking about for a guide to lead us into 
some corner of the house, a woman, seemingly about forty 
years old, came to us in a great bustle, screaming in Erse, 
with the most horrible guinea-hen or peacock voice I ever 
heard, first to one person, then another. She could hardly 
spare time to show us up-stairs, for crowds of men were in 
the house—drovers, carriers, horsemen, travellers, all of 
whom she had to provide with supper, and she was, as she 
told us, the only woman there. 

Never did I see such a miserable, such a wretched place, 
—long rooms with ranges of beds, no other furniture except 
benches, or perhaps one or two crazy chairs, the floors far 
dirtier than an ordinary house could be if it were never 
washed,—as dirty as a house after a sale on a rainy day, and 
the rooms being large, and the walls naked, they looked as 
if more than half the goods had been sold out. We sate 
shivering in one of the large rooms for three quarters of an 
hour before the woman could find time to speak to us again; 
she then promised a fire in another room, after two 
travellers, who were going a stage further, had finished their 
whisky, and said we should have supper as soon as possible. 
She had no eggs, no milk, no potatoes, no loaf-bread, or we 
should have preferred tea. With length of time the fire 
was kindled, and, after another hour’s waiting, supper 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


177 


came,—a shoulder of mutton so hard that it was impossible 
to chew the little flesh that might he scraped off the bones, 
and some sorry soup made of barley and water, for it had 
no other taste. 

After supper, the woman, having first asked if we 
slept on blankets, brought in two pair of sheets, which 
she begged that I would air by the fire, for they would be 
dirtied below-stairs. I was very willing, but behold! the 
sheets were so wet, that it would have been at least a two- 
hours’ job before a far better fire than could be mustered 
at King’s House,—for, that nothing might be wanting to 
make it a place of complete starvation, the peats were not 
dry, and if they had not been helped out by decayed wood 
dug out of the earth along with them, we should have had 
no fire at all. The woman was civil, in her fierce, wild way. 
She and the house, upon that desolate and extensive Wild, 
and everything we saw, made us think of one of those places 
of rendezvous which we read of in novels—Ferdinand Count 
Fathom, or Gil Bias,—where there is one woman to receive 
the booty, and. prepare the supper at night. She told us 
that she was only a servant, but that she had now lived 
there five years, and that, when but a ‘young lassie,’ she 
had lived there also. We asked her if she had always 
served the same master, ‘ Nay, nay, many masters, for they 
were always changing.’ I verily believe that the woman 
was attached to the place like a cat to the empty house 
when the family who brought her up are gone to live else¬ 
where. The sheets were so long in drying that it was very 
late before we went to bed. We talked over our day’s 
adventures by the fireside, and often looked out of the 
window towards a huge pyramidal mountain* at the entrance 
* Buchal, the Shepherd of Etive. 

M 


178 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


of Glen Coe. All between, the dreary waste was clear, 
almost, as sky, the moon shining full upon it. A rivulet 
ran amongst stones near the house, and sparkled with light: 
I could have fancied that there was nothing else, in that 
extensive circuit over which we looked, that had the power 
of motion. 

In comparing the impressions we had received at Glen 
Coe, we found that though the expectations of both had 
been far surpassed by the grandeur of the mountains, we 
had upon the whole both been disappointed, and from 
the same cause : we had been prepared for images of terror, 
had expected a deep, den-like valley with overhanging rocks, 
such as William has described in these lines, speaking of 
the Alps :— 

Brook and road 

Were fellow-travellers in this gloomy Pass, 

And with them did we journey several hours 
At a slow step. The immeasurable height 
Of woods decaying, never to be decayed ! 

The stationary blasts of waterfalls ; 

And everywhere along the hollow rent 
Winds thwarting winds, bewilder’d and forlorn; 

The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky, 

The rocks that mutter’d close upon our ears, 

Black drizzling crags that spake by the way-side 
As if a voice were in them; the sick sight 
And giddy prospect of the raving stream; 

The unfetter’d clouds, and region of the heavens, 
Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light, 

Were all like workings of one mind, the features 
Of the same face, blossoms upon one tree, 

Characters of the great Apocalypse, 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


179 


The Types and Symbols of Eternity, 

Of first, and last, and midst, and without end. 

The place had nothing of this character, the glen being 
open to the eye of day, the mountains retiring in indepen¬ 
dent majesty. Even in the upper part of it, where the 
stream rushed through the rocky chasm, it was but a deep 
trench in the vale, not the vale itself, and could only be 
seen when we were close to it. 


180 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


FOURTH WEEK. 

Sunday , September Mh .—We had desired to be called at 
six o’clock, and rose at the first summons. Our beds had 
proved better than we expected, and we had not slept ill; 
but poor Coleridge had passed a wretched night here four 
days before. This we did not know; but since, when he 
told us of it, the notion of what he must have suffered, 
with the noise of drunken people about his ears all night, 
himself sick and tired, has made our discomfort cling to 
my memory, and given these recollections a twofold interest. 
I asked if it was possible to have a couple of eggs boiled 
before our departure : the woman hesitated; she thought 
I might, and sent a boy into the out-houses to look about, 
who brought in one egg after long searching. Early as we 
had risen it was not very early when we set off, for every¬ 
thing at King’s House was in unison—equally uncomfort¬ 
able. As the woman had told us the night before, ‘ They 
had no hay, and that was a loss.’ There were neither stalls 
nor bedding in the stable, so that William was obliged to 
watch the horse while it was feeding, for there were several 
others in the stable, all standing like wild beasts, ready to 
devour each other’s portion of corn : this, with the slowness 
of the servant and other hindrances, took up much time, 
and we were completely starved, for the morning was very 
cold, as I believe all the mornings in that desolate place 


are. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


181 


When we had gone about a quarter of a mile I recol¬ 
lected that I had left the little cup given me by the kind 
landlady at Taynuilt, which I had intended that John 
should hereafter drink out of, in memory of our wanderings. 
I would have turned back for it, but William pushed me 
on, unwilling that we should lose so much time, though 
indeed he was as sorry to part with it as myself. 

Our road was over a hill called the Black Mount. 
For the first mile, or perhaps more, after we left King’s 
House, we ascended on foot; then came upon a new road, 
one of the finest that was ever trod; and, as we went 
downwards almost all the way afterwards, we travelled very 
quickly. The motion was pleasant, the different reaches 
and windings of the road were amusing; the sun shone, the 
mountain-tops were clear and cheerful, and we in good 
spirits, in a bustle of enjoyment, though there never 
was a more desolate region : mountains behind, before, and 
on every side; I do not remember to have seen either 
patch of grass, flower, or flowering heather within three or 
four miles of King’s House. The low ground was not rocky, 
but black, and full of white frost-bleached stones, the 
prospect only varied by pools, seen everywhere both near 
and at a distance, as far as the ground stretched out below 
us : these were interesting spots, round which the mind 
assembled living objects, and they shone as bright as mirrors 
in the forlorn waste. We passed neither tree nor shrub 
for miles—I include the whole space from Glen Coe—yet 
we saw perpetually traces of a long decayed forest, pieces of 
black mouldering wood. 

Through such a country as this we had travelled per¬ 
haps seven and a half miles this morning, when, after 
descending a hill, we turned to the right, and saw an 


182 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


unexpected sight in the moorland hollow into which we 
were entering, a small lake bounded on the opposite 
side by a grove of Scotch firs, two or three cottages 
at the head of it, and a lot of cultivated ground with 
scattered hay-cocks. The road along which we were going, 
after having made a curve considerably above the tarn, 
was seen winding through the trees on the other side, a 
beautiful object, and, luckily for us, a drove of cattle 
happened to be passing there at the very time, a stream 
coursing the road, with off-stragglers to the borders of the 
lake, and under the trees on the sloping ground. 

In conning over our many wanderings I shall never for¬ 
get the gentle pleasure with which we greeted the lake of 
Inveroran and its few grey cottages : we suffered our horse 
to slacken his pace, having now no need of the comfort of 
quick motion, though we were glad to think that one of 
those cottages might be the public-house where we were 
to breakfast. A forest—now, as it appeared, dwindled 
into the small grove bordering the lake—had, not many 
years ago, spread to that side of the vale where we were : 
large stumps of trees which had been cut down were yet 
remaining undecayed, and there were some single trees 
left alive, as if by their battered black boughs to tell us 
of the storms that visit the valley which looked now so 
sober and peaceful. When we arrived at the huts, one of 
them proved to be the inn, a thatched house without a 
sign-board. We were kindly received, had a fire lighted 
in the parlour, and were in such good humour that we 
seemed to have a thousand comforts about us; but we had 
need of a little patience in addition to this good humour 
before breakfast was brought, and at last it proved a dis¬ 
appointment : the butter not eatable, the barley-cakes 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


183 


fusty, the oat-bread so hard I could not chew it, and 
there were only four eggs in the house, which they had 
boiled as hard as stones. 

Before we had finished breakfast two foot-travellers came 
in, and seated themselves at our table; one of them was 
returning, after a long absence, to Fort-William, his native 
home; he had come from Egypt, and, many years ago, 
had been on a recruiting party at Penrith, and knew 
many people there. He seemed to think his own country 
but a dismal land. 

There being no bell in the parlour, I had occasion to go 
several times and ask for what we wanted in the kitchen, 
and I would willingly have given twenty pounds to have 
been able to take a lively picture of it. About seven or 
eight travellers, probably drovers, with as many dogs, were 
sitting in a complete circle round a large peat-fire in the 
middle of the floor, each with a mess of porridge, in a 
wooden vessel, upon his knee; a pot, suspended from one 
of the black beams, was boiling on the fire; two or three 
women pursuing their household business on the outside 
of the circle, children playing on the floor. There was 
nothing uncomfortable in this confusion : happy, busy, or 
vacant faces, all looked pleasant; and even the smoky air, 
being a sort of natural indoor atmosphere of Scotland, served 
only to give a softening, I may say harmony, to the whole. 

We departed immediately after breakfast; our road 
leading us, as I have said, near the lake-side and through 
the grove of firs, which extended backward much further 
than we had imagined. After we had left it we came 
again among bare moorish wastes, as before, under the 
mountains, so that Inveroran still lives in our recollection 
as a favoured place, a flower in the desert. 


184 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


Descended upon the whole, I believe very considerably, 
in our way to Tyndrum; but it was a road of long ups 
and downs, over hills and through hollows of uncultivated 
ground; a chance farm perhaps once in three miles, a 
glittering rivulet bordered with greener grass than grew on 
the broad waste, or a broken fringe of alders or birches, 
partly concealing and partly pointing out its course. 

Arrived at Tyndrum at about two o’clock. It is a cold 
spot. Though, as I should suppose, situated lower than 
Inveroran, and though we saw it in the hottest time of the 
afternoon sun, it had a far colder aspect from the want of 
trees. We were here informed that Coleridge, who, we 
supposed, was gone to Edinburgh, had dined at this very 
house a few days before, in his road to Fort-William. By 
the help of the cook, who was called in, the landlady made 
out the very day : it was the day after we parted from 
him; as she expressed it, the day after the ‘ great speet,’ 
namely, the great rain. We had a moorfowl and mutton- 
chops for dinner, well cooked, and a reasonable charge. 
The house was clean for a Scotch inn, and the people about 
the doors were well dressed. In one of the parlours we 
saw a company of nine or ten, with the landlady, seated 
round a plentiful table,—a sight which made us think of the 
fatted calf in the alehouse pictures of the Prodigal Son. 
There seemed to be a whole harvest of meats and drinks, 
and there was something of festivity and picture-like gaiety 
even in the fresh-coloured dresses of the people and their 
Sunday faces. The white table-cloth, glasses, English 
dishes, etc., were all in contrast with what we had seen at 
Inveroran : the places were but about nine miles asunder, 
both among hills; the rank of the people little different, 
and each house appeared to be a house of plenty. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND . 


185 


We were I think better pleased with our treatment at 
this inn than any of the lonely houses on the road, except 
Taynuilt; but Coleridge had not fared so well, and was 
dissatisfied, as he has since told us, and the two travellers 
who breakfasted with us at Inveroran had given a bad 
account of the house. 

Left Tyndrum at about five o’clock; a gladsome after¬ 
noon ; the road excellent, and we bowled downwards 
through a pleasant vale, though not populous, or well culti¬ 
vated, or woody, but enlivened by a river that glittered as 
it flowed. On the side of a sunny hill a knot of men and 
women were gathered together at a preaching. We passed 
by many droves of cattle and Shetland ponies, which acci¬ 
dent stamped a character upon places, else unrememberable 
—not an individual character, but the soul, the spirit, and 
solitary simplicity of many a Highland region. 

We had about eleven miles to travel before we came to 
our lodging, and had gone five or six, almost always de¬ 
scending, and still in the same vale, when we saw a small 
lake before us after the vale had made a bending to the 
left; it was about sunset when we came up to the lake; 
the afternoon breezes had died away, and the water was in 
perfect stillness. One grove-like island, with a ruin that 
stood upon it overshadowed by the trees, was reflected on 
the water. This building, which, on that beautiful evening, 
seemed to be wrapped up in religious quiet, we were 
informed had been raised for defence by some Highland 
chieftain. All traces of strength, or war, or danger are 
passed away, and in the mood in which we were we could 
only look upon it as a place of retirement and peace. The 
lake is called Loch Dochart. We passed by two others of 
inferior beauty, and continued to travel along the side of 


186 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


the same river, the Dochart, through an irregular, undeter¬ 
mined vale,—poor soil and much waste land. 

At that time of the evening when, by looking steadily, 
we could discover a few pale stars in the sky, we saw upon 
an eminence, the bound of our horizon, though very near to 
us, and facing the bright yellow clouds of the west, a group 
of figures that made us feel how much we wanted in not 
being painters. Two herdsmen, with a dog beside them, 
were sitting on the hill, overlooking a herd of cattle scat¬ 
tered over a large meadow by the river-side. Their forms, 
looked at through a fading light, and backed by the bright 
west, were exceedingly distinct, a beautiful picture in the 
quiet of a Sabbath evening, exciting thoughts and images 
of almost patriarchal simplicity and grace. We were much 
pleased with the situation of our inn, where we arrived 
between eight and nine o’clock. The river was at the dis¬ 
tance of a broad field from the door; we could see it from 
the upper windows and hear its murmuring; the moon 
shone, enlivening the large corn fields with cheerful light. 
We had a bad supper, and the next morning they made 
us an unreasonable charge ; and the servant was uncivil, 
because, forsooth ! we had no wine. 

N.B .—The travellers in the morning had spoken highly 
of this inn.* 

Monday , September 5 th .—After drinking a bason of milk 
we set off again at a little after six o’clock—a fine morn¬ 
ing—eight miles to Killin—the river Dochart always on 
our left. The face of the country not very interesting, 
though not unpleasing, reminding us of some of the vales 
of the north of England, though meagre, nipped-up, or 
* Suie. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


187 


shrivelled compared with them. There were rocks, and 
rocky knolls, as about Grasmere and Wytheburn, and 
copses, but of a starveling growth; the cultivated ground 
poor. Within a mile or two of Killin the land was better 
cultivated, and, looking down the vale, we had a view of 
Loch Tay, into which the Dochart falls. Close to the town, 
the river took up a roaring voice, beating its way over a 
rocky descent among large black stones : islands in the 
middle turning the stream this way and that; the whole 
course of the river very wide. We crossed it by means of 
three bridges, which make one continued bridge of a great 
length. On an island below the bridge is a gateway with 
tall pillars, leading to an old burying-ground belonging to 
some noble family.* It has a singular appearance, and the 
place is altogether uncommon and romantic—a remnant of 
ancient grandeur : extreme natural wildness—the sound of 
roaring water, and withal, the ordinary half-village, half¬ 
town bustle of an every-day place. 

The inn at Killin is one of the largest on the Scotch 
road : it stands pleasantly, near the chapel, at some distance 
from the river Dochart, and out of reach of its tumultuous 
noise ; and another broad, stately, and silent stream, which 
you cannot look at without remembering its boisterous 
neighbour, flows close under the windows of the inn, and 
beside the churchyard, in which are many graves. That 
river falls into the lake at the distance of nearly a mile 
from the mouth of the Dochart. It is bordered with tall 
trees and corn fields, bearing plentiful crops, the richest we 
had seen in Scotland. 

After breakfast we walked onwards, expecting that the 
stream would lead us into some considerable vale; but it 
* The burial-place of Macnab of Macnab. 


188 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


soon became little better than a common rivulet, and the 
glen appeared to be short; indeed, we wondered how the 
river had grown so great all at once. Our horse had not 
been able to eat his corn, and we waited a long time in the 
hope that he would be better. At eleven o’clock, however, 
we determined to set off, and give him all the ease possible 
by walking up the hills, and not pushing beyond a slow 
walk. We had fourteen miles to travel to Kenmore, by 
the side of Loch Tay. Crossed the same bridge again, and 
went down the south side of the lake. We had a delight¬ 
ful view of the village of Killin, among rich green fields, 
corn and wood, and up towards the two horns of the vale 
of Tay, the valley of the Dochart, and the other valley with 
its full-grown river, the prospect terminated by mountains. 
We travelled through lanes, woods, or open fields, never 
close to the lake, but always near it, for many miles, the 
road being carried along the side of a hill, which rose in an 
almost regularly receding steep from the lake. The opposite 
shore did not much differ from that down which we went, 
but it seemed more thinly inhabited, and not so well culti¬ 
vated. The sun shone, the cottages were pleasant, and the 
goings-on of the harvest—for all the inhabitants were at 
work in the corn fields—made the way cheerful. But there 
is an uniformity in the lake which, comparing it with other 
lakes, made it appear tiresome. It has no windings : I 
should even imagine, although it is so many miles long, 
that, from some points not very high on the hills, it may be 
seen from one end to the other. There are few bays, no 
lurking-places where the water hides itself in the land, no 
outjutting points or promontories, no islands; and there 
are no commanding mountains or precipices. I think that 
this lake would be the most pleasing in spring-time, or in 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


189 


summer before the corn begins to change colour, the long 
tracts of hills on each side of the vale having at this season 
a kind of patchy appearance, for the corn fields in general 
were very small, mere plots, and of every possible shade of 
bright yellow. When we came in view of the foot of the 
lake we perceived that it ended, as it had begun, in pride 
and loveliness. The village of Kenmore, with its neat 
church and cleanly houses, stands on a gentle eminence at 
the end of the water. The view, though not near so beau¬ 
tiful as that of Killin, is exceedingly pleasing. Left our 
car, and turned out of the road at about the distance of a 
mile from the town, and after having climbed perhaps a 
quarter of a mile, we were conducted into a locked-up plan¬ 
tation, and guessed by the sound that we were near the 
cascade, but could not see it. Our guide opened a door, 
and we entered a dungeon-like passage, and, after walking 
some yards in total darkness, found ourselves in a quaint 
apartment stuck over with moss, hung about with stuffed 
foxes and other wild animals, and ornamented with a lib¬ 
rary of wooden books covered with old leather backs, the 
mock furniture of a hermit’s cell. At the end of the room, 
through a large bow-window, we saw the waterfall, and at 
the same time, looking down to the left, the village of Ken¬ 
more and a part of the lake—a very beautiful prospect. 


190 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


MEMORANDUM BY THE AUTHOR. 

1 The transcript of the First Part of this Journal, and 
the Second as far as page 149, were written before the 
end of the year 1803. I do not know exactly when I 
concluded the remainder of the Second Part, but it was 
resumed on the 2d of February 1804. The Third Part 
was begun at the end of the month of April 1805, and 
finished on the 31st of May.’* 

* In this interval her dear brother, Captain Wordsworth, had been 
drowned, as stated in note to page 3, in the wreck of the ‘ Abergavenny/ 
on February 5, 1805. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


191 


April 11 th, 1805.—I am setting about a task which, 
however free and happy the state of my mind, I could not 
have performed well at this distance of time; but now, I 
do not know that I shall be able to go on with it at all. I 
will strive, however, to do the best I can, setting before 
myself a different object from that hitherto aimed at, which 
was, to omit no incident, however trifling, and to describe 
the country so minutely that you should, where the objects 
were the most interesting, feel as if you had been with us. 
I shall now only attempt to give you an idea of those scenes 
which pleased us most, dropping the incidents of the ordi¬ 
nary days, of which many have slipped from my memory, 
and others which remain it would be difficult, and often 
painful to me, to endeavour to draw out and disentangle 
from other thoughts. I the less regret my inability to do 
more, because, in describing a great part of what we saw 
from the time we left Kenmore, my work would be little 
more than a repetition of what I have said before, or, where 
it was not so, a longer time was necessary to enable us to 
bear away what was most interesting than we could afford 
to give. 






































/ ■ 


. R Arofe 



















* 










A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


193 


Monday , September 5 th .—We arrived at Kenmore after 
sunset. 

Tuesday , September 6 th .—Walked before breakfast in Lord 
Breadalbane’s grounds, which border upon the river Tay. 
The higher elevations command fine views of the lake; 
and the walks are led along the river’s banks, and shaded 
with tall trees: but it seemed to us that a bad taste had 
been at work, the banks being regularly shaven and cut 
as if by rule and line. One or two of such walks I should 
well have liked to see; but they are all equally trim, and 
I could not but regret that the fine trees had not been left 
to grow out of a turf that cattle were permitted to feed upon. 
There was one avenue which would well have graced the 
ruins of an abbey or some stately castle. It was of a very 
great length, perfectly straight, the trees meeting at the 
top in a cathedral arch, lessening in perspective,—the boughs 
the roof, the stems the pillars. I never saw so beautiful 
an avenue. We were told that some improver of pleasure- 
grounds had advised Lord B. to cut down the trees, 
and lay the whole open to the lawn, for the avenue is 
very near his house. His own better taste, or that of 
some other person, I suppose, had saved them from the axe. 
Many workmen were employed in building a large mansion, 
something like that of Inverary, close to the old house, 


194 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


which was yet standing; the situation, as we thought, very 
bad, considering that Lord Breadalbane had the command 
of all the ground at the foot of the lake, including hills 
both high and low. It is in a hollow, without prospect 
either of the lake or river, or anything else—seeing nothing, 
and adorning nothing. After breakfast, left Kenmore, and 
travelled through the vale of Tay, I believe fifteen or six¬ 
teen miles; but in the course of this we turned out of our 
way to the Falls of Moness, a stream tributary to the Tay, 
which passes through a narrow glen with very steep banks. 
A path like a woodman’s track has been carried through 
the glen, which, though the private property of a gentleman, 
has not been taken out of the hands of Nature, but merely 
rendered accessible by this path, which ends at the water¬ 
falls. They tumble from a great height, and are indeed very 
beautiful falls, and we could have sate with pleasure the 
whole morning beside the cool basin in which the waters rest, 
surrounded by high rocks and overhanging trees. In one 
of the most retired parts of the dell, we met a young man 
coming slowly along the path, intent upon a book which 
he was reading: he did not seem to be of the rank of a 
gentleman, though above that of a peasant. 

Passed through the village of Aberfeldy, at the foot of 
the glen of Moness. The birks of Aberfeldy are spoken 
of in some of the Scotch songs, which no doubt grew in 
the stream of Moness ; but near the village we did not see 
any trees that were remarkable, except a row of laburnums, 
growing as a common field hedge; their leaves were of a 
golden colour, and as lively as the yellow blossoms could 
have been in the spring. Afterwards we saw many 
laburnums in the woods, which we were told had been 
‘planted;’ though I remember that Withering speaks 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


195 


of the laburnum as one of the British plants, and 
growing in Scotland. The twigs and branches being stiff, 
were not so graceful as those of our garden laburnums, but 
I do not think I ever before saw any that were of so 
brilliant colours in their autumnal decay. In our way to 
and from Moness we crossed the Tay by a bridge of ambi¬ 
tious and ugly architecture. Many of the bridges in Scot¬ 
land are so, having eye-holes between the arches, not in 
the battlements but at the outspreading of the pillar of 
the arch, which destroys its simplicity, and takes from the 
appearance of strength and security, without adding any¬ 
thing of lightness. We returned, by the same road, to the 
village of Weem, where we had left our car. The vale of 
Tay was very wide, having been so from within a short dis¬ 
tance of Kenmore: the reaches of the river are long; and the 
ground is more regularly cultivated than in any vale we had 
yet seen—chiefly corn, and very large tracts. Afterwards 
the vale becomes narrow and less cultivated, the reaches 
shorter-—on the whole resembling the vale of Nith, but we 
thought it inferior in beauty. 

One among the cottages in this narrow and wilder part of 
the vale fixed our attention almost as much as a Chinese or a 
Turk would do passing through the vale of Grasmere. It 
was a cottage, I believe, little differing in size and shape from 
all the rest; but it was like a visitor, a stranger come into 
the Highlands, or a model set up of what may be seen in 
other countries. The walls were neatly plastered or rough¬ 
cast, the windows of clean bright glass, and the door was 
painted—before it a flower-garden, fenced with a curi¬ 
ously-clipped hedge, and against the wall was placed the 
sign of a spinning-wheel. We could not pass this humble 
dwelling, so distinguished by an appearance of comfort 


196 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


and neatness, without some conjectures respecting the 
character and manner of life of the person inhabiting it. 
Leisure he must have had; and we pleased ourselves with 
thinking that some self-taught mind might there have 
been nourished by knowledge gathered from books, and 
the simple duties and pleasures of rural life. 

At Logierait, the village where we dined, the vale 
widens again, and the Tummel joins the Tay and loses its 
name ; but the Tay falls into the channel of the Tummel, 
continuing its course in the same direction, almost at right 
angles to the former course of the Tay. We were sorry to 
find that we had to cross the Tummel by a ferry, and 
resolved not to venture in the same boat with the horse. 
Dined at a little public-house, kept by a young widow, very 
talkative, and laboriously civil. She took me out to the 
back-door, and said she would show me a place which had 
once been very grand, and, opening a door in a high wall, I 
entered a ruinous court-yard, in which was a large old man¬ 
sion, the walls entire and very strong, but the roof broken 
in. The woman said it had been a palace of one of the 
kings of Scotland. It was a striking, and even an affecting 
object, coming upon it, as I did, unawares,—a royal resi¬ 
dence shut up and hidden, while yet in its strength, by 
mean cottages; there was no appearance of violence, but 
decay from desertion, and I should think that it may 
remain many years without undergoing further visible 
change. The woman and her daughter accompanied us to 
the ferry and crossed the water with us; the woman said, 
but with not much appearance of honest heart-feeling, that 
she could not be easy to let us go without being there to 
know how we sped, so I invited the little girl to accom¬ 
pany her, that she might have a ride in the car. The men 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


197 


were cautious, and the horse got over with less alarm than 
we could have expected. Our way was now up the vale, 
along the banks of the Tummel, an impetuous river; the 
mountains higher than near the Tay, and the vale more 
wild, and the different reaches more interesting. 

When we approached near to Fascally, near the junction 
of the Garry with the Tummel, the twilight was far 
advanced, and our horse not being perfectly recovered, we 
were fearful of taking him on to Blair-Athole—five miles 
further; besides, the Pass of Killicrankie was within half 
a mile, and we were unwilling to go through a place so 
celebrated in the dark; therefore, being joined by a tra¬ 
veller, we inquired if there was any public-house near; he 
said there was ; and that though the accommodations were 
not good, we might do well enough for one night, the host 
and his wife being very honest people. It proved to be 
rather better than a common cottage of the country; we 
seated ourselves by the fire, William called for a glass of 
whisky, and asked if they could give us beds. The woman 
positively refused to lodge us, though we had every reason to 
believe that she had at least one bed for me ; we entreated 
again and again in behalf of the poor horse, but all in 
vain; she urged, though in an uncivil way, that she had 
been sitting up the whole of one or two nights before on 
account of a fair, and that now she wanted to go to bed 
and sleep; so we were obliged to remount our car in the 
dark, and with a tired horse we moved on, and went 
through the Pass of Killicrankie, hearing only the roaring 
of the river, and seeing a black chasm with jagged-topped 
black hills towering above. Afterwards the moon rose, 
and we should not have had an unpleasant ride if our 
horse had been in better plight, and we had not been 


198 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


annoyed, as we were almost at every twenty yards, by 
people coming from a fair held that day near Blair—no 
pleasant prognostic of what might be our accommodation 
at the inn, where we arrived between ten and eleven 
o’clock, and found the house in an uproar; but we were 
civilly treated, and were glad, after eating a morsel of 
cold beef, to retire to rest, and I fell asleep in spite of 
the noisy drunkards below stairs, who had outstayed the 
fair. 

Wednesday , September 7th .—Rose early, and went before 
breakfast to the Duke of Athol’s gardens and pleasure- 
grounds, where we completely tired ourselves with a three- 
hours’ walk. Having been directed to see all the waterfalls, 
we submitted ourselves to the gardener, who dragged us 
from place to place, calling our attention to, it might be, 
half-a-dozen—I cannot say how many—dripping streams, 
very pretty in themselves, if we had had the pleasure of 
discovering them ; but they were generally robbed of their 
grace by the obtrusive ornaments which were first seen. 
The whole neighbourhood, a great country, seems to belong 
to the Duke of Athol. In his domain are hills and moun¬ 
tains, glens and spacious plains, rivers and innumerable 
torrents; but near Blair are no old woods, and the planta¬ 
tions, except those at a little distance from the house, 
appear inconsiderable, being lost to the eye in so extensive 
a circuit. 

The castle stands on low ground, and far from the 
Garry, commanding a prospect all round of distant moun¬ 
tains, a bare and cold scene, and, from the irregularity and 
width of it, not so grand as one should expect, knowing 
the great height of some of the mountains. Within the 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


199 


Duke’s park are three glens, the glen of the river Tilt and 
two others, which, if they had been planted more judi¬ 
ciously, would have been very sweet retirements; but they 
are choked up, the whole hollow of the glens—I do not 
speak of the Tilt, for that is rich in natural wood—being 
closely planted with trees, and those chiefly firs; but many 
of the old fir-trees are, as single trees, very fine. On each 
side of the glen is an ell-wide gravel walk, which the gar¬ 
dener told us was swept once a week. It is conducted at 
the top of the banks, on each side, at nearly equal height, 
and equal distance from the stream; they lead you up one 
of these paths, and down the other—very wearisome, as 
you will believe—mile after mile ! We went into the gar¬ 
den, where there was plenty of fruit—gooseberries, hanging 
as thick as possible upon the trees, ready to drop off; I 
thought the gardener might have invited us to refresh 
ourselves with some of his fruit after our long fatigue. 
One part of the garden was decorated with statues, ‘ images,’ 
as poor Mr. Gill used to call those at Raced own, dressed 
in gay-painted clothes; and in a retired corner of the 
grounds, under some tall trees, appeared the figure of a 
favourite old gamekeeper of one of the former Dukes, in 
the attitude of pointing his gun at the game—‘ reported to 
be a striking likeness,’ said the gardener. Looking at 
some of the tall larches, with long hairy twigs, very beauti¬ 
ful trees, he told us that they were among the first which 
had ever been planted in Scotland, that a Duke of Athol 
had brought a single larch from London in a pot, in his 
coach, from which had sprung the whole family that had 
overspread Scotland. This, probably, might not be accu¬ 
rate, for others might afterwards have come, or seed from 
other trees. He told us many anecdotes of the present 


200 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


Duke, which I wish I could perfectly remember. He is an 
indefatigable sportsman, hunts the wild deer on foot, 
attended by twelve Highlanders in the Highland dress, 
which he himself formerly used to wear; he will go out 
at four o’clock in the morning, and not return till night. 
His fine family, 1 Athol’s honest men, and Athol’s bonny 
lasses/ to whom Burns, in his bumpers, drank health and 
long life, are dwindled away : of nine, I believe only four 
are left: the mother of them is dead in a consumption, 
and the Duke married again. We rested upon the 
heather seat which Burns was so loth to quit that moon¬ 
light evening when he first went to Blair Cas^e, and had a 
pleasure in thinking that he had been under the same 
shelter, and viewed the little waterfall opposite with some 
of the happy and pure feelings of his better' mind.. The 
castle has been modernized, which has spoiled its Appear¬ 
ance. It is a large irregular pile, not handsome, but I 
think may have been picturesque, and even noble, before 
it was docked of its battlements and whitewashed. 

The most interesting object we saw at Blair was the 
chapel, shaded by trees, in which the body of the impetuous 
Dundee lies buried. This quiet spot is seen from the 
windows of the inn, whence you look, at the same time, 
upon a high wall and a part of the town—a contrast which, 
I know not why, made the chapel and its grove appear 
more peaceful, as if kept so for some sacred purpose. We 
had a very nice breakfast, which we sauntered over after 
our weary walk. 

Being come to the most northerly point of our destined 
course, we took out the map, loth to turn our backs upon 
the Highlands, and, looking about for something which we 
might yet see, we fixed our eyes upon two or three spots 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


201 


not far distant, and sent for the landlord to consult with him. 
One of them was Loch Rannoch, a fresh-water lake, which 
he told us was bordered by a natural pine forest, that its 
banks were populous, and that the place being very remote, 
we might there see much of the simplicity of the High¬ 
lander’s life. The landlord said that we must take a guide 
for the first nine or ten miles; but afterwards the road 
was plain before us, and very good, so at about ten o’clock 
we departed, having engaged a man to go with us. The 
Falls of Bruar, which we wished to visit for the sake of 
Burns, are about- three miles from Blair, and our road was 
in the same j^irection for two miles. 

After fyatfing gone for some time under a bare hill, we 
were told to leave the car at some cottages, and pass through 
a little gate neSi* a brook which crossed the road. We 
walked *upwards at least three quarters of a mile in the 
hot sun, with the stream on our right, both sides of which 
to a considerable height were planted with firs and larches 
intermingled—children of poor Burns’s song; for his sake 
we wished that they had been the natural trees of Scot¬ 
land, birches, ashes, mountain-ashes, etc.; however, sixty 
or seventy years hence they will be no unworthy monument 
to his memory. At present, nothing can be uglier than 
the whole chasm of the hill-side with its formal walks. I 
do not mean to condemn them, for, for aught I know, they 
are as well managed as they could be ; but it is not easy 
to see the use of a pleasure-path leading to nothing, up a 
steep and naked hill in the midst of an unlovely tract of 
country, though by the side of a tumbling stream of clear 
water. It does not surely deserve the name of a pleasure- 
path. It is three miles from the Duke of Athol’s house, 
and I do not believe that one person living within five miles 


202 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


of the place would wish to go twice to it. The falls are 
high, the rocks and stones fretted and gnawed by the 
water. I do not wonder at the pleasure which Burns 
received from this stream; I believe we should have been 
much pleased if we had come upon it as he did. At the 
bottom of the hill we took up our car, and, turning back, 
joined the man who was to be our guide. 

Crossed the Garry, and went along a moor without any 
road but straggling cart-tracks. Soon began to ascend a 
high hill, and the ground grew so rough—road there was 
none—that we were obliged to walk most of the way. 
Ascended to a considerable height, and commanded an 
extensive prospect bounded by lofty mountains, and having 
crossed the top of the fell we parted with our guide, being 
in sight of the vale into which we were to descend, and to 
pursue upwards till we should come to Loch Rannoch, a 
lake, as described to us, bedded in a forest of Scotch pines. 

When left to ourselves we sate down on the hill¬ 
side, and looked with delight into the deep vale below, 
which was exceedingly green, not regularly fenced or culti¬ 
vated, but the level area scattered over with bushes and 
trees, and through that level ground glided a glassy river, 
not in serpentine windings, but in direct turnings back¬ 
wards and forwards, and then flowed into the head of the 
Lake of Tummel; but I will copy a rough sketch which I 
made while we sate upon the hill, which, imperfect as it is, 
will give a better idea of the course of the river, which I 
must add is more curious than beautiful, than my descrip¬ 
tion. The ground must be often overflowed in winter, for 
the water seemed to touch the very edge of its banks. 
At this time the scene was soft and cheerful, such as invited 
us downwards, and made us proud of our adventure. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


203 


Coming near to a cluster of huts, we turned thither, a few 
steps out of our way, to inquire about the road; these 
huts were on the hill, placed side by side, in a figure 
between a square and a circle, as if for the sake of mutual 
shelter, like haystacks in a farmyard—no trees near them. 
We called at one of the doors, and three hale, stout men 
came out, who could speak very little English, and stared 
at us with an almost savage look of wonder. One of them 
took much pains to set us forward, and went a considerable 
way down the hill till we came in sight of the cart road, 
which we were to follow; but we had not gone far before 
we were disheartened. It was with the greatest difficulty 
William could lead the horse and car over the rough stones, 
and to sit in it was impossible; the road grew worse and 
worse, therefore we resolved to turn back, having no 
reason to expect anything better, for we had been told that 
after we should leave the untracked ground all would be 
fair before us. We knew ourselves where we stood to be 
about eight miles distant from the point where the river 
Tummel, after having left the lake, joins the Garry at 
Fascally near the Pass of Killicrankie, therefore we resolved 
to make our way thither, and endeavour to procure a lodg¬ 
ing at the same public-house where it had been refused to 
us the night before. The road was likely to be very bad; 
but, knowing the distance, we thought it more prudent 
than to venture further with nothing before us but uncer¬ 
tainty. We were forced to unyoke the horse, and turn 
the car ourselves, owing to the steep banks on either side 
of the road, and after much trouble we got him in again, 
and set our faces down the vale towards Loch Tummel, 
William leading the car and I walking by his side. 

For the first two or three miles we looked down upon 


204 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


the lake, our road being along the side of the hill directly 
above it. On the opposite side another range of hills rose 
up in the same manner,—farm-houses thinly scattered 
among the copses near the water, and cultivated ground 
in patches. The lake does not wind, nor are the shores 
much varied by bays,—the mountains not commanding ; 
but the whole a pleasing scene. Our road took us out of 
sight of the water, and we were obliged to procure a guide 
across a high moor, where it was impossible that the horse 
should drag us at all, the ground being exceedingly rough 
and untracked : of course fatiguing for foot-travellers, and 
on foot we must travel. After some time, the river Tum- 
mel again served us for a guide, when it had left the lake. 
It was no longer a gentle stream, a mirror to the sky, 
but we could hear it roaring at a considerable distance 
between steep banks of rock and wood. We had to cross 
the Garry by a bridge, a little above the junction of the 
two rivers; and were now not far from the public-house, 
to our great joy, for we were very weary with our laborious 
walk. I do not think that I had walked less than sixteen 
miles, and William much more, to which add the fatigue 
of leading the horse, and the rough roads, and you will not 
wonder that we longed for rest. We stopped at the door 
of the house, and William entered as before, and again the 
woman refused to lodge us, in a most inhuman manner, 
giving no other reason than that she would not do it. We 
pleaded for the poor horse, entreated, soothed, and flattered, 
but all in vain, though the night was cloudy and dark. 
We begged to sit by the fire till morning, and to this she 
would not consent; indeed, if it had not been for the sake 
of the horse, I would rather have lain in a barn than on the 
best of feather-beds in the house of such a cruel woman. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


205 


We were now, after our long day’s journey, five miles from 
the inn at Blair, whither we, at first, thought of returning ; 
but finally resolved to go to a public-house which we had 
seen in a village we passed through, about a mile above the 
ferry over the Tummel, having come from that point to 
Blair, for the sake of the Pass of Killicrankie and Blair it¬ 
self, and had now the same road to measure hack again. 
We were obliged to leave the Pass of Killicrankie unseen; 
hut this disturbed us little at a time when we had seven 
miles to travel in the dark, with a poor beast almost sink¬ 
ing with fatigue, for he had not rested once all day. We 
went on spiritless, and at a dreary pace. Passed by one 
house which we were half inclined to go up to and ask for 
a night’s lodging; and soon after, being greeted by a gentle 
voice from a poor woman, whom, till she spoke, though we 
were close to her, we had not seen, we stopped, and asked 
if she could tell us where we might stay all night, and put 
up our horse. She mentioned the public-house left behind, 
and we told our tale, and asked her if she had no house to 
which she could take us. ‘ Yes, to be sure she had a house, 
but it was only a small cottage; ’ and she had no place for 
the horse, and how we could lodge in her house she could 
not tell; but we should be welcome to whatever she had, 
so we turned the car, and she walked by the side of it, 
talking to us in a tone of human kindness which made us 
friends at once. 

I remember thinking to myself, as I have often done in 
a stage-coach, though never with half the reason to pre¬ 
judge favourably, What sort of countenance and figure shall 
we see in this woman when we come into the light ? And 
indeed it was an interesting moment when, after we had 
entered her house, she blew the embers on the hearth, and 


206 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


lighted a candle to assist us in taking the luggage out of 
the car. Her husband presently arrived, and he and 
William took the horse to the public-house. The poor 
woman hung the kettle over the fire. We had tea and 
sugar of our own, and she set before us barley cakes, and 
milk which she had just brought in; I recollect she said 
she ‘had been west to fetch it.' The Highlanders always 
direct you by east and west, north and south—very con¬ 
fusing to strangers. She told us that it was her business 

to * keep the gate ’ for Mr.-, who lived at-, 

just below,—that is, to receive messages, take in letters, etc. 
Her cottage stood by the side of the road leading to his 
house, within the gate, having, as we saw in the morning, 
a dressed-up porter’s lodge outside; but within was no¬ 
thing but the naked walls, unplastered, and floors of mud, as 
in the common huts. She said that they lived rent-free in 
return for their services ; but spoke of her place and Mr. 

-with little respect, hinting that he was very proud, 

and indeed, her appearance and subdued manners, and 
that soft voice which had prepossessed us so much in her 
favour, seemed to belong to an injured and oppressed being. 
We talked a great deal with her, and gathered some interest¬ 
ing facts from her conversation, which I wish I had written 
down while they were fresh in my memory. They had 
only one child, yet seemed to he very poor, not discon¬ 
tented, hut languid, and willing to suffer rather than rouse 
to any effort. Though it was plain she despised and hated 
her master, and had no wish to conceal it, she hardly ap¬ 
peared to think it worth while to speak ill of him. We 
were obliged to sit up very late while our kind hostess was 
preparing our beds. William lay upon the floor on some 
hay, without sheets ; my bed was of chaff; I had plenty of 





A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


207 


covering, and a pair of very nice strong clean sheets,—she 
said with some pride that she had good linen. I believe 
the sheets had been of her own spinning, perhaps when she 
was first married, or before, and she probably will keep 
them to the end of her life of poverty. 

Thursday , September 8th .—Before breakfast we walked to 
the Pass of Killicrankie. A very fine scene; the river 
Garry forcing its way down a deep chasm between rocks, 
at the foot of high rugged hills covered with wood, to a 
great height. The Pass did not, however, impress us with 
awe, or a sensation of difficulty or danger, according to our 
expectations; but, the road being at a considerable height 
on the side of the hill, we at first only looked into the dell 
or chasm. It is much grander seen from below, near the 
river’s bed. Everybody knows that this Pass is famous in 
military history. When we were travelling in Scotland 
an invasion was hourly looked for, and one could not but 
think with some regret of the times when from the now 
depopulated Highlands forty or fifty thousand men might 
have been poured down for the defence of the country, 
under such leaders as the Marquis of Montrose or the 
brave man who had so distinguished himself upon the 
ground where we were standing. I will transcribe a 
sonnet suggested to William by this place, and written in 
October 1803 :— 

Six thousand Veterans practised in War’s game, 

Tried men, at Killicrankie were array’d 
Against an equal host that wore the Plaid, 

Shepherds and herdsmen. Like a whirlwind came 
The Highlanders; the slaughter spread like flame, 


208 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


And Garry, thundering down his mountain road, 

Was stopp’d, and could not breathe beneath the load 
Of the dead bodies. ’Twas a day of shame 
For them whom precept and the pedantry 
Of cold mechanic battle do enslave. 

Oh ! for a single hour of that Dundee 
Who on that day the word of onset gave : 

Like conquest might the men of England see, 

And her Foes find a like inglorious grave. 

We turned back again, and going down the hill below 
the Pass, crossed the same bridge we had come over the 
night before, and walked through Lady Perth’s grounds by 
the side of the Garry till we came to the Tummel, and 
then walked up to the cascade of the Tummel. The fall 
is inconsiderable, scarcely more than an ordinary 1 wear;' 
but it makes a loud roaring over large stones, and the 
whole scene is grand—hills, mountains, woods, and rocks. 

- is a very pretty place, all but the house. Stod- 

dart’s print gives no notion of it. The house stands upon 
a small plain at the junction of the two rivers, a close deep 
spot, surrounded by high hills and woods. After we had 
breakfasted William fetched the car, and, while we were 
conveying the luggage to the outside of the gate, where it 

stood, Mr.- mal apropos came very near to the door, 

called the woman out, and railed at her in the most abusive 
manner for ‘ harbouring ’ people in that way. She soon 
slipped from him, and came back to us : I wished that 
William should go and speak to her master, for I was afraid 
that he might turn the poor woman away; but she would 
not suffer it, for she did not care whether they stayed or 
not. In the meantime, Mr.- continued scolding her 




A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


209 


husband; indeed, he appeared to be not only proud, but 
very ignorant, insolent, and low-bred. The woman told 
us that she had sometimes lodged poor travellers who 
were passing along the road, and permitted others to cook 
their victuals in her house, for which Mr.-had re¬ 

primanded her before; but, as she said, she did not value 
her place, and it was no matter. In sounding forth the 

dispraise of Mr. -, I ought not to omit mentioning 

that the poor woman had great delight in talking of the 
excellent qualities of his mother, with whom she had been 
a servant, and lived many years. After having inter¬ 
changed good wishes we parted with our charitable hostess, 
who, telling us her name, entreated us, if ever we came 
that way again, to inquire for her. 

We travelled down the Tummel till it is lost in the Tay, 
and then, in the same direction, continued our course along 
the vale of Tay, which is very wide for a considerable 
way, but gradually narrows, and the river, always a fine 
stream, assumes more dignity and importance. Two or 
three miles before we reached Dunkeld, we observed whole 
hill-sides, the property of the Duke of Athol, planted with 
fir-trees till they are lost among the rocks near the tops of 
the hills. In forty or fifty years these plantations will be 
very fine, being carried from hill to hill, and not bounded 
by a visible artificial fence. 

Reached Dunkeld at about three o’clock. It is a pretty, 
small town, with a respectable and rather large ruined 
abbey, which is greatly injured by being made the nest of 
a modern Scotch kirk, with sash windows,—very incongru¬ 
ous with the noble antique tower,—a practice which we 
afterwards found is not uncommon in Scotland. Sent for 
the Duke’s gardener after dinner, and walked with him into 

0 




210 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


the pleasure-grounds, intending to go to the Falls of the 
Bran, a mountain stream which here joins the Tay. After 
walking some time on a shaven turf under the shade of 
old trees, by the side of the Tay, we left the pleasure- 
grounds, and crossing the river by a ferry, went up a lane 
on the hill opposite till we came to a locked gate by the 
road-side, through which we entered into another part of 
the Duke’s pleasure-grounds bordering on the Bran, the 
glen being for a considerable way—for aught I know, two 
miles—thridded by gravel walks. The walks are quaintly 
enough intersected, here and there by a baby garden of 
fine flowers among the rocks and stones. The waterfall, 
which we came to see, warned us by a loud roaring that 
we must expect it; we were first, however, conducted into 
a small apartment, where the gardener desired us to look 
at a painting of the figure of Ossian, which, while he was 
telling us the story of the young artist who performed the 
work, disappeared, parting in the middle, flying asunder as 
if by the touch of magic, and lo! we are at the entrance 
of a splendid room, which was almost dizzy and alive with 
waterfalls, that tumbled in all directions—the great cascade, 
which was opposite to the window that faced us, being re¬ 
flected in innumerable mirrors upon the ceiling and against 
the walls.* We both laughed heartily, which, no doubt, the 
gardener considered as high commendation; for he was 
very eloquent in pointing out the beauties of the place. 

We left the Bran, and pursued our walk through the 
plantations, where we readily forgave the Duke his little 
devices for their sakes. They are already no insignificant 
woods, where the trees happen to be oaks, birches, and 
others natural to the soil; and under their shade the walks 
* See Appendix E. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


211 


are delightful. From one hill, through different openings 
under the trees, we looked up the vale of Tay to a great 
distance, a magnificent prospect at that time of the evening; 
woody and rich—corn, green fields, and cattle, the wind¬ 
ing Tay, and distant mountains. Looked down the river 
to the town of Dunkeld, which lies low, under irregular 
hills, covered with wood to their rocky summits, and 
bounded by higher mountains, which are bare. The hill of 
Birnam, no longer Birnam 4 wood/ was pointed out to us. 
After a very long walk we parted from our guide when it 
was almost dark, and he promised to call on us in the 
morning to conduct us to the gardens. 

Friday , September 9 th .—According to appointment, the 
gardener came with his keys in his hand, and we 
attended him whithersoever he chose to lead, in spite of 
past experience at Blair. We had, however, no reason to 
repent, for we were repaid for the trouble of going through 
the large gardens by the apples and pears of which he gave 
us liberally, and the walks through the woods on that part 
of the grounds opposite to where we had been the night 
before were very delightful. The Duke’s house is neither 
large nor grand, being just an ordinary gentleman’s house, 
upon a green lawn, and whitewashed, I believe. The old 
abbey faces the house on the east side, and appears to 
stand upon the same green lawn, which, though close to the 
town, is entirely excluded from it by high walls and trees. 

We had been undetermined respecting our future course 
when we came to Dunkeld, whether to go on directly to 
Perth and Edinburgh, or to make a circuit and revisit the 
Trossachs. We decided upon the latter plan, and accord¬ 
ingly after breakfast set forward towards Crieff, where we 


212 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


intended to sleep, and the next night at Callander. The first 
part of our road, after having crossed the ferry, was up the 
glen of the Bran. Looking backwards, we saw Dunkeld 
very pretty under the hills, and surrounded by rich culti¬ 
vated ground, but we had not a good distant view of the 
abbey. 

Left our car, and went about a hundred yards from the 
road to see the Rumbling Brig, which, though well worth 
our going out of the way even much further, disappointed 
us, as places in general do which we hear much spoken of 
as savage, tremendous, etc.,—and no wonder, for they are 
usually described by people to whom rocks are novelties. 
The gardener had told us that we should pass through the 
most populous glen in Scotland, the glen of Amulree. 
It is not populous in the usual way, with scattered dwell¬ 
ings ; but many clusters of houses, hamlets such as we had 
passed near the Tummel, which had a singular appearance, 
being like small encampments, were generally without trees, 
and in high situations—every house the same as its neigh¬ 
bour, whether for men or cattle. There was nothing else 
remarkable in the glen. We halted at a lonely inn at the 
foot of a steep barren moor, which we had to cross; then, 
after descending considerably, came to the narrow glen, 
which we had approached with no little curiosity, not 
having been able to procure any distinct description of it. 

At Dunkeld, when we were hesitating what road to take, 
we wished to know whether that glen would be worth visit¬ 
ing, and accordingly put several questions to the waiter, 
and, among other epithets used in the course of interroga¬ 
tion, we stumbled upon the word ‘grand,’ to which he 
replied, ‘No, I do not think there are any gentlemen’s 
seats in it.’ However, we drew enough from this describer 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


213 


and the gardener to determine us finally to go to Callander, 
the Narrow Glen being in the way. 

Entered the glen at a small hamlet at some distance from 
the head, and, turning aside a few steps, ascended a hillock 
which commanded a view to the top of it—a very sweet 
scene, a green valley, not very narrow, with a few scattered 
trees and huts, almost invisible in a misty gleam of after¬ 
noon light. At this hamlet we crossed a bridge, and the 
road led us down the glen, which had become exceedingly 
narrow, and so continued to the end: the hills on both 
sides heathy and rocky, very steep, but continuous; the 
rocks not single or overhanging, not scooped into caverns 
or sounding with torrents : there are no trees, no houses, 
no traces of cultivation, not one outstanding object. It is 
truly a solitude, the road even making it appear still more 
so : the bottom of the valley is mostly smooth and level, 
the brook not noisy : everything is simple and undisturbed, 
and while we passed through it the whole place was shady, 
cool, clear, and solemn. At the end of the long valley we 
ascended a hill to a great height, and reached the top, when 
the sun, on the point of setting, shed a soft yellow light 
upon every eminence. The prospect was very extensive; 
over hollows and plains, no towns, and few houses visible— 
a prospect, extensive as it was, in harmony with the 
secluded dell, and fixing its own peculiar character of re¬ 
movedness from the world, and the secure possession of the 
quiet of nature more deeply in our minds. The following 
poem was written by 'William on hearing of a tradition 
relating to it, which we did not know when we were 
there:— 

In this still place remote from men 

Sleeps Ossian, in the Narrow Glen, 


214 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


In this still place where murmurs on 
But one meek streamlet, only one. 

He sung of battles and the breath 
Of stormy war, and violent death, 

And should, methinks, when all was pass’d 
Have rightfully been laid at last 
Where rocks were rudely heap’d, and rent 
As by a spirit turbulent; 

Where sights were rough, and sounds were wild' 
And everything unreconciled, 

In some complaining, dim retreat 
Where fear and melancholy meet; 

But this is calm; there cannot be 
A more entire tranquillity. 

Does then the Bard sleep here indeed 1 
Or is it but a groundless creed 1 
What matters it ? I blame them not 
Whose fancy in this lonely spot 
Was moved, and in this way express’d 
Their notion of its perfect rest. 

A convent, even a hermit’s cell 
Would break the silence of this Dell; 

It is not quiet, is not ease, 

But something deeper far than these ; 

The separation that is here 
Is of the grave; and of austere 
And happy feelings of the dead : 

And therefore was it rightly said 
That Ossian, last of all his race, 

Lies buried in this lonely place. 

Having descended into a broad cultivated vale, we saw 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


215 


nothing remarkable. Observed a gentleman’s house,* which 
stood pleasantly among trees. It was dark some time before 
we reached Crieff, a small town, though larger than Dunkeld. 

Saturday , September 10 th .—Rose early, and departed 
without breakfast. We were to pass through one of the 
most celebrated vales of Scotland, Strath Erne. We found 
it a wide, long, and irregular vale, with many gentlemen’s 
seats under the hills, woods, copses, frequent cottages, plan¬ 
tations, and much cultivation, yet with an intermixture of 
barren ground ; indeed, except at Killin and Dunkeld, 
there was always something which seemed to take from 
the composure and simplicity of the cultivated scenes. 
There is a struggle to overcome the natural barrenness, 
and the end not attained, an appearance of something 
doing, or imperfectly done, a passing with labour from one 
state of society into another. When you look from an 
eminence on the fields of Grasmere Yale, the heart is satis¬ 
fied with a simple undisturbed pleasure, and no less, on 
one of the green or heathy dells of Scotland, where there 
is no appearance of change to be, or having been, but such 
as the seasons make. Strath Erne is so extensive a vale 
that, had it been in England, there must have been much 
inequality, as in Wensly Dale; but at Wensly there is a 
unity, a softness, a melting together, which in the large 
vales of Scotland I never perceived. The difference at 
Strath Erne may come partly from the irregularity, the 
undefined outline, of the hills which enclose it; but it is 
caused still more by the broken surface, I mean broken as to 
colour and produce, the want of hedgerows, and also the 
great number of new fir plantations. After some miles it 
* Morizie probably. 


216 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


becomes much narrower as we approach nearer the moun¬ 
tains at the foot of the lake of the same name, Loch Erne. 

Breakfasted at a small public-house, a wretchedly dirty 
cottage, but the people were civil, and though we had 
nothing but barley cakes, we made a good breakfast, for 
there were plenty of eggs. Walked up a high hill to view 
the seat of Mr. Dundas, now Lord Melville—a spot where, 
if he have gathered much wisdom from his late disgrace 
or his long intercourse with the world, he may spend his 
days as quietly as he need desire. It is a secluded valley, 
not rich, but with plenty of wood : there are many pretty 
paths through the woods, and moss huts in different parts. 
After leaving the cottage where we breakfasted the country 
was very pleasing, yet still with a want of richness; but 
this was less perceived, being huddled up in charcoal 
woods, and the vale narrow. Loch Erne opens out in a 
very pleasing manner, seen from a hill along which the 
road is carried through a wood of low trees; but it does 
not improve afterwards, lying directly from east to west 
without any perceivable bendings; and the shores are not 
much broken or varied, not populous, and the mountains 
not sufficiently commanding to make up for the deficien¬ 
cies. Dined at the head of the lake. I scarcely 
know its length, but should think not less than four or 
five miles, and it is wide in proportion. The inn is in a 
small village—a decent house. 

Walked about half a mile along the road to Tyndrum, 
which is through a bare glen,* and over a mountain pass. 
It rained when we pursued our journey again, and con¬ 
tinued to rain for several hours. The road which we were 
to take was up another glen, down which came a stream 
* Glen Ogle. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


217 


that fell into the lake on the opposite side at the head of 
it, so, after having crossed the main vale, a little above the 
the lake, we entered into the smaller glen. The road 
delightfully smooth and dry—one gentleman’s house very 
pleasant among large coppice woods. After going perhaps 
three miles up this valley, we turned to the left into 
another, which seemed to be much more beautiful. It was 
a level valley, not—like that which we had passed—a wide 
sloping cleft between the hills, but having a quiet, slow¬ 
paced stream, which flowed through level green grounds 
tufted with trees intermingled with cottages. The tops of 
the hills were hidden by mists, and the objects in the 
valley seen through misty rain, which made them look exceed¬ 
ingly soft, and indeed partly concealed them, and we always 
fill up what we are left to guess at with something as 
beautiful as what we see. This valley seemed to have less 
of the appearance of barrenness or imperfect cultivation 
than any of the same character we had passed through; 
indeed, we could not discern any traces of it. It is called 
Strath Eyer. 4 Strath ’ is generally applied to a broad vale ; 
but this, though open, is not broad. 

We next came to a lake, called Loch Lubnaig, a name 
which signifies ‘ winding.’ In shape it somewhat resembles 
Ulswater, but is much narrower and shorter, being only 
four miles in length. The character of this lake is simple 
and grand. On the side opposite to where we were is a 
range of steep craggy mountains, one of which—like Place 
Fell—encroaching upon the bed of the lake, forces it to 
make a considerable bending. I have forgotten the name 
of this precipice : it is a very remarkable one, being almost 
perpendicular, and very rugged. 

We, on the other side, travelled under steep and rocky 


218 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


hills which were often covered with low woods to a con¬ 
siderable height; there were one or two farm-houses, and 
a few cottages. A neat white dwelling* on the side of the 
hill over against the bold steep of which I have spoken, 
had been the residence of the famous traveller Bruce, who, 
all his travels ended, had arranged the history of them in 
that solitude—as deep as any Abyssinian one—among the 
mountains of his native country, where he passed several 
years. Whether he died there or not we did not learn; 
but the manner of his death was remarkable and affecting, 
—from a fall down-stairs in his own house, after so many 
dangers through which fortitude and courage had never 
failed to sustain him. The house stands sweetly, surrounded 
by coppice-woods and green fields. On the other side, I 
believe, were no houses till we came near to the outlet, 
where a few low huts looked very beautiful, with their 
dark brown roofs, near a stream which hurried down the 
mountain, and after its turbulent course travelled a short 
way over a level green, and was lost in the lake. 

Within a few miles of Callander we come into a grand 
region; the mountains to a considerable height were covered 
with wood, enclosing us in a narrow passage; the stream 
on our right, generally concealed by wood, made a loud 
roaring; at one place, in particular, it fell down the rocks 
in a succession of cascades. The scene is much celebrated 
in Scotland, and is called the Pass of Leny. It was nearly 
dark when we reached Callander. We were wet and cold, 
and glad of a good fire. The inn was comfortable; we 
drank tea; and after tea the waiter presented us with a pam¬ 
phlet descriptive of the neighbourhood of Callander, which 
we brought away with us, and I am very sorry I lost it. 

* Ardhullary. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


219 


FIFTH WEEK. 

Sunday , September 1 LA—Immediately after breakfast, the 
morning being fine, we set off with cheerful spirits towards 
the Trossachs, intending to take up our lodging at the 
house of our old friend the ferryman. A boy accompanied 
us to convey the horse and car back to Callander from the 
head of Loch Achray. The country near Callander is very 
pleasing; but, as almost everywhere else, imperfectly cul¬ 
tivated. We went up a broad vale, through which runs 
the stream from Loch Ketterine, and came to Loch Yenna- 
char, a larger lake than Loch Achray, the small one which 
had given us such unexpected delight when we left the 
Pass of the Trossachs. Loch Yennachar is much larger, but 
greatly inferior in beauty to the image which we had con¬ 
ceived of its neighbour, and so the reality proved to us 
when we came up to that little lake, and saw it before us 
in its true shape in the cheerful sunshine. The Trossachs, 
overtopped by Benledi and other high mountains, enclose 
the lake at the head; and those houses which we had seen 
before, with their corn fields sloping towards the water, 
stood very prettily under low woods. The fields did not 
appear so rich as when we had seen them through the veil 
of mist; but yet, as in framing our expectations we had 
allowed for a much greater difference, so we were even a 
second time surprised with pleasure at the same spot. 

Went as far as these houses of which I have spoken in 


220 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


the car, and then walked on, intending to pursue the road 
up the side of Loch Ketterine along which Coleridge had 
come; but we had resolved to spend some hours in the 
neighbourhood of the Trossachs, and accordingly coasted 
the head of Loch Achray, and pursued the brook between 
the two lakes as far as there was any track. Here we 
found, to our surprise—for we had expected nothing but 
heath and rocks, like the rest of the neighbourhood of the 
Trossachs—a secluded farm, a plot of verdant ground with 
a single cottage and its company of out-houses. We turned 
back, and went to the very point from which we had first 
looked upon Loch Achray when we were here with Cole¬ 
ridge. It was no longer a visionary scene : the sun shone 
into every crevice of the hills, and the mountain-tops were 
clear. After some time we went into the pass from the 
Trossachs, and were delighted to behold the forms of objects 
fully revealed, and even surpassing in loveliness and variety 
what we had conceived. The mountains, I think, appeared 
not so high; but on the whole we had not the smallest 
disappointment; the heather was fading, though still 
beautiful. 

Sate for half-an-hour in Lady Perth’s shed, and scrambled 
over the rocks and through the thickets at the head of the 
lake. I went till I could make my way no further, and 
left William to go to the top of the hill, whence he had a 
distinct view, as on a map, of the intricacies of the lake 
and the course of the river. Returned to the huts, and, 
after having taken a second dinner of the food we had 
brought from Callander, set our faces towards the head of 
Loch Ketterine. I can add nothing to my former description 
of the Trossachs, except that we departed with our old 
delightful remembrances endeared, and many new ones. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


221 


The path or road—for it was neither the one nor the 
other, but something between both—is the pleasantest I 
have ever travelled in my life for the same length of way,— 
now with marks of sledges or wheels, or none at all, bare 
or green, as it might happen; now a little descent, now a 
level; sometimes a shady lane, at others an open track 
through green pastures ; then again it would lead us into 
thick coppice-woods, which often entirely shut out the 
lake, and again admitted it by glimpses. We have never 
had a more delightful walk than this evening. Ben 
Lomond and the three pointed-topped mountains of Loch 
Lomond, which wejiad seen from the Garrison, were very 
majestic under the clear sky, the lake perfectly calm, the 
air sweet and mild. I felt that it was much more interesting 
to visit a place where we have been before than it can pos¬ 
sibly be the first time, except under peculiar circumstances. 
The sun had been set for some time, when, being within a 
quarter of a mile of the ferryman’s hut, our path having 
led us close to the shore of the calm lake, we met two 
neatly dressed women, without hats, who had probably been 
taking their Sunday evening’s walk. One of them said to 
us in a friendly, soft tone of voice, ‘ What! you are stepping 
westward 1 ’ I cannot describe how affecting this simple 
expression was in that remote place, with the western sky 
in front, yet glowing with the departed sun. William 
wrote the following poem long after, in remembrance of 
his feelings and mine:— 

‘ What! you are stepping westward V Yea., 

’Twould be a wildish destiny 

If we, who thus together roam 

In a strange land, and far from home, 


222 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


Were in this place the guests of chance : 

Yet who would stop, or fear to advance, 

Though home or shelter he had none, 

With such a sky to lead him on % 

The dewy ground was dark and cold, 

Behind all gloomy to behold, 

And stepping westward seem’d to be 
A kind of heavenly destiny ; 

I liked the greeting, ’twas a sound 
Of something without place or hound ; 

And seem’d to give me spiritual right 
To travel through that region bright. 

The voice was soft; and she who spake 
Was walking by her native Lake ; 

The salutation was to me 
The very sound of courtesy ; 

Its power was felt, and while my eye 
Was fix’d upon the glowing sky, 

The echo of the voice enwrought 
A human sweetness with the thought 
Of travelling through the world that lay 
Before me in my endless way. 

We went up to the door of our boatman’s hut as to a 
home, and scarcely less confident of a cordial welcome than if 
we had been approaching our own cottage at Grasmere. 
It had been a very pleasing thought, while we were walk¬ 
ing by the side of the beautiful lake, that, few hours as we 
had been there, there was a home for us in one of its quiet 
dwellings. Accordingly, so we found it; the good woman, 
who had been at a preaching by the lake-side, was in her 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


223 


holiday dress at the door, and seemed to be rejoiced at the 
sight of us. She led us into the hut in haste to supply our 
wants; we took once more a refreshing meal by her fire¬ 
side, and, though not so merry as the last time, we were 
not less happy, bating our regrets that Coleridge was not 
in his old place. I slept in the same bed as before, and 
listened to the household stream, which now only made a 
very low murmuring. 

Monday, September 12th .—Eejoiced in the morning to 
see the sun shining upon the hills when I first looked out 
through the open window-place at my bed’s head. We 
rose early, and after breakfast, our old companion, who 
was to be our guide for the day, rowed us over the water 
to the same point where Coleridge and I had sate down 
and eaten our dinner, while William had gone to survey 
the unknown coast. We intended to cross Loch Lomond, 
follow the lake to Glenfallocli, above the head of it, and 
then come over the mountains to Glengyle, and so down 
the glen, and passing Mr. Macfarlane’s house, back again 
to the ferry-house, where we should sleep. So, a third 
time we went through the mountain hollow, now familiar 
ground. The inhabitants had not yet got in all their hay, 
and were at work in the fields; our guide often stopped 
to talk with them, and no doubt was called upon to 
answer many inquiries respecting us two strangers. 

At the ferry-house of Inversneyde we had not the happy 
sight of the Highland girl and her companion, but the 
good woman received us cordially, gave me milk, and 
talked of Coleridge, who, the morning after we parted from 
him, had been at her house to fetch his watch, which he 
had forgotten two days before. He has since told me 


224 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


that he questioned her respecting the miserable condition 
of her hut, which, as you may remember, admitted the rain 
at the door, and retained it in the hollows of the mud 
floor: he told her how easy it would be to remove these 
inconveniences, and to contrive something, at least, to pre¬ 
vent the wind from entering at the window-places, if not a 
glass window for light and warmth by day. She replied 
that this was very true, but if they made any improvements 
the laird would conclude that they were growing rich, and 
would raise their rent. 

The ferryman happened to be just ready at the moment 
to go over the lake with a poor man, his wife and child. 
The little girl, about three years old, cried all the way, 
terrified by the water. When we parted from this family, 
they going down the lake, and we up it, I could not but 
think of the difference in our condition to that poor 
woman, who, with her husband, had been driven from her 
home by want of work, and was now going a long journey 
to seek it elsewhere : every step was painful toil, for she 
had either her child to bear or a heavy burthen. I walked 
as she did, but pleasure was my object, and if toil came 
along with it, even that was pleasure,—pleasure, at least, 
it would be in the remembrance. 

We were, I believe, nine miles from Grlenfalloch when 
we left the boat. To us, with minds at ease, the walk 
was delightful; it could not be otherwise, for we passed 
by a continual succession of rocks, woods, and mountains; 
but the houses were few, and the ground cultivated only 
in small portions near the water, consequently there was 
not that sort of variety which leaves distinct separate re¬ 
membrances, but one impression of solitude and greatness. 
While the Highlander and I were plodding on together 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


225 


side by side, interspersing long silences with now and 
then a question or a remark, looking down to the lake he 
espied two small rocky islands, and pointing to them, said 
to me, ‘It will be gay* and dangerous sailing there in 
stormy weather when the water is high.’ In giving my 
assent I could not help smiling, but I afterwards found 
that a like combination of words is not uncommon in 
Scotland, for, at Edinburgh, William being afraid of rain, 
asked the ostler what he thought, who, looking up to the 
sky, pronounced it to ‘ be gay and dull,’ and therefore rain 
might be expected. The most remarkable object we saw 
was a huge single stone, I believe three or four times the 
size of Bowder Stone.t The top of it, which on one side 
was sloping like the roof of a house, was covered with 
heather. William climbed up the rock, which would have 
been no easy task but to a mountaineer, and we con¬ 
structed a rope of pocket-handkerchiefs, garters, plaids, coats, 
etc., and measured its height. It was so many times the 
length of William’s walking-stick, but, unfortunately, hav¬ 
ing lost the stick, we have lost the measure. The ferry¬ 
man told us that a preaching was held there once in three 
months by a certain minister—I think of Arrochar—who 
engages, as a part of his office, to perform the service. 
The interesting feelings we had connected with the Highland 
Sabbath and Highland worship returned here with double 
force. The rock, though on one side a high perpendicular 
wall, in no place overhung so as to form a shelter, in no 
place could it be more than a screen from the elements. 
Why then had it been selected for such a purpose 1 Was 
it merely from being a central situation and a conspicuous 

* This is none other than the well-known Scottish word e gey'— indiffer¬ 
ently, tolerable, considerable.— Ed. + See Appendix F. 

P 


226 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


object 1 ? Or did there belong to it some inheritance of 
superstition from old times 1 It is impossible to look at 
the stone without asking, How came it hither 1 Had then 
that obscurity and unaccountableness, that mystery of 
power which is about it, any influence over the first persons 
who resorted hither for worship 1 Or have they now on 
those who continue to frequent it 1 The lake is in front 
of the perpendicular wall, and behind, at some distance, 
and totally detached from it, is the continuation of the 
ridge of mountain which forms the vale of Loch Lomond— 
a magnificent temple, of which this spot is a noble Sanctum 
Sanctorum. 

We arrived at Glenfalloch at about one or two o’clock. 
It is no village; there being only scattered huts in the 
glen, which may be four miles long, according to my 
remembrance : the middle of it is very green, and level, 
and tufted with trees. Higher up, where the glen parts 
into two very narrow ones, is the house of the laird ; I 
daresay a pretty place. The view from the door of the 
public-house is exceedingly beautiful; the river flows 
smoothly into the lake, and the fields were at that time 
as green as possible. Looking backward, Ben Lomond 
very majestically shuts in the view. The top of the 
mountain, as seen here, being of a pyramidal form, it is 
much grander than with the broken outline, and stage 
above stage, as seen from the neighbourhood of Luss. We 
found nobody at home at the inn, but the ferryman 
shouted, wishing to have a glass of whisky, and a young 
woman came from the hay-field, dressed in a white bed¬ 
gown, without hat or cap. There was no whisky in the 
house, so he begged a little whey to drink with the frag¬ 
ments of our cold meat brought from Callander. After a 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


227 


short rest in a cool parlour we set forward again, haying 
to cross the river and climb up a steep mountain on the 
opposite side of the valley. I observed that the people 
were busy bringing in the hay before it was dry into a 
sort of 4 fauld ’ or yard, where they intended to leave it, 
ready to be gathered into the house with the first threaten¬ 
ing of rain, and if not completely dry brought out again. 
Our guide bore me in his arms over the stream, and we 
soon came to the foot of the mountain. The most easy 
rising, for a short way at first, was near a naked rivulet 
which made a fine cascade in one place. Afterwards, the 
ascent was very laborious, being frequently almost perpen¬ 
dicular. 

It is one of those moments which I shall not easily forget, 
when at that point from which a step or two would have car¬ 
ried us out of sight of the green fields of Glenfalloch, being 
at a great height on the mountain, we sate down, and heard, 
as if from the heart of the earth, the sound of torrents 
ascending out of the long hollow glen. To the eye all was 
motionless, a perfect stillness. The noise of waters did 
not appear to come this way or that, from any particular 
quarter: it was everywhere, almost, one might say, as if 
4 exhaled ’ through the whole surface of the green earth. 
Glenfalloch, Coleridge has since told me, signifies the 
Hidden Yale; but William says, if we were to name it 
from our recollections of that time, we should call it the 
Yale of Awful Sound. We continued to climb higher and 
higher; but the hill was no longer steep, and afterwards 
we pursued our way along the top of it with many small 
ups and downs. The walk was very laborious after the 
climbing was over, being often exceedingly stony, or 
through swampy moss, rushes, or rough heather. As we 


228 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


proceeded, continuing our way at the top of the mountain, 
encircled by higher mountains at a great distance, we 
were passing, without notice, a heap of scattered stones 
round which was a belt of green grass—green, and as it 
seemed rich, where all else was either poor heather and 
coarse grass, or unprofitable rushes and spongy moss. The 
Highlander made a pause, saying, ‘ This place is much 
changed since I was here twenty years ago.’ He told us 
that the heap of stones had been a hut where a family 
was then living, who had their winter habitation in the 
valley, and brought their goats thither in the summer to 
feed on the mountains, and that they were used to gather 
them together at night and morning to be milked close 
to the door, which was the reason why the grass was 
yet so green near the stones. It was affecting in that 
solitude to meet with this memorial of manners passed 
away; we looked about for some other traces of humanity, 
but nothing else could we find in that place. We ourselves 
afterwards espied another of those ruins, much more exten¬ 
sive—the remains, as the man told us, of several dwellings. 
We were astonished at the sagacity with which our High¬ 
lander discovered the track, where often no track was 
visible to us, and scarcely even when he pointed it out. 
It reminded us of what we read of the Hottentots and other 
savages. He went on as confidently as if it had been a 
turnpike road—the more surprising, as when he was there 
before it must have been a plain track, for he told us that 
fishermen from Arrochar carried herrings regularly over 
the mountains by that way to Loch Ketterine when the 
glens were much more populous than now. 

Descended into Glengyle, above Loch Ketterine, and 
passed through Mr. Macfarlane’s grounds, that is, through 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


229 


the whole of the glen, where there was now no house left 
but his. We stopped at his door to inquire after the 
family, though with little hope of finding them at home, 
having seen a large company at work in a hay-field, whom 
we conjectured to be his whole household—as it proved, 
except a servant-maid, who answered our inquiries. We 
had sent the ferryman forward from the head of the glen 
to bring the boat round from the place where he left it to 
the other side of the lake. Passed the same farm-house 
we had such good reason to remember, and went up to the 
burying-ground that stood so sweetly near the water-side. 
The ferryman had told us that Rob Eoy’s grave was there, 14 
so we could not pass on without going up to the spot. 
There were several tomb-stones, but the inscriptions were 
either worn-out or unintelligible to us, and the place choked 
up with nettles and brambles. You will remember the 
description I have given of the spot. I have nothing here 
to add, except the following poem which it suggested to 
William :— 

A famous Man is Robin Hood, 

The English Ballad-singer’s joy, 

And Scotland boasts of one as good, 

She has her own Eob Eoy! 

Then clear the weeds from off his grave, 

And let us chaunt a passing stave 
In honour of that Outlaw brave. 

Heaven gave Rob Eoy a daring heart 
And wondrous length and strength of arm, 

Nor craved he more to quell his foes, 

Or keep his friends from harm. 


230 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


Yet Robin was as wise as brave, 

As wise in thought as bold in deed, 

For in the principles of things 
He sought his moral creed. 

Said generous Rob, ‘ What need of books 1 
Burn all the statutes and their shelves : 
They stir us up against our kind, 

And worse, against ourselves. 

‘ We have a passion; make a law, 

Too false to guide us or control: 

And for the law itself we fight 
In bitterness of soul. 

‘ And puzzled, blinded thus, we lose 
Distinctions that are plain and few : 

These find I graven on my heart : 

That tells me what to do. 

‘ The Creatures see of flood and field, 

And those that travel on the wind ! 

With them no strife can last; they live 
In peace, and peace of mind. 

‘ For why 1 Because the good old rule 
Suffices them, the simple plan 
That they should take who have the power, 
And they should keep who can. 

‘ A lesson which is quickly learn’d, 

A signal this which all can see! 

Thus nothing here provokes the strong 
To tyrannous cruelty. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


231 


‘ And freakishness of mind is check’d ; 

He tamed who foolishly aspires, 

While to the measure of their might 
All fashion their desires. 

‘ All kinds and creatures stand and fall 
By strength of prowess or of wit, 

Tis God’s appointment who must sway, 

And who is to submit. 

‘ Since then,’ said Bobin, ‘ right is plain, 

And longest life is hut a day; 

To have my ends, maintain my rights, 

I ’ll take the shortest way.’ 

And thus among these rocks he lived 
Through summer’s heat and winter’s snow; 
The Eagle, he was lord above, 

And Bob was lord below. 

So was it—would at least have been 
But through untowardness of fate; 

For polity was then too strong : 

He came an age too late. 

Or shall we say an age too soon ? 

For were the bold man living now, 

How might he flourish in his pride 
W T ith buds on every bough ] 

Then Bents and Land-marks, Bights of chase, 
Sheriffs and Factors, Lairds and Thanes, 
Would all have seem’d but paltry things 
Not worth a moment’s pains. 


232 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


Rob Roy had never linger’d here, 

To these few meagre vales confined, 

But thought how wide the world, the times 
How fairly to his mind. 

And to his Sword he would have said, 

‘ Do thou my sovereign will enact 
From land to land through half the earth; 
Judge thou of law and fact. 

* ’Tis fit that we should do our part; 
Becoming that mankind should learn 
That we are not to be surpass’d 
In fatherly concern. 

‘ Of old things all are over old, 

Of good things none are good enough; 

I ’ll shew that I can help to frame 
A world of other stuff. 

‘ I, too, will have my Kings that take 
From me the sign of life and death, 
Kingdoms shall shift about like clouds 
Obedient to my breath.’ 

And if the word had been fulfill’d 
As might have been, then, thought of joy ! 
France would have had her present Boast, 
And we our brave Rob Roy. 

Oh ! say not so, compare them not; 

I would not wrong thee, Champion brave! 
Would wrong thee nowhere; least of all 
Here, standing by thy Grave. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


233 


For thou, although with some wild thoughts, 

Wild Chieftain of a savage Clan, 

Hadst this to boast of—thou didst love 
The Liberty of Man. 

And had it been thy lot to live 
With us who now behold the light, 

Thou wouldst have nobly stirr’d thyself, 

And battled for the right. 

For Robin was the poor man’s stay; 

The poor man’s heart, the poor man’s hand, 

And all the oppress’d who wanted strength 
Had Robin’s to command. 

Bear witness many a pensive sigh 
Of thoughtful Herdsman when he strays 
Alone upon Loch Veol’s heights, 

And by Loch Lomond’s Braes. 

And far and near, through vale and hill, 

Are faces that attest the same; 

Kindling with instantaneous joy 
At sound of Rob Roy’s name. 

Soon after we saw our boat coming over the calm water. 
It was late in the evening, and I was stiff and weary, as 
well I might, after such a long and toilsome walk, so it was 
no poor gratification to sit down and be conscious of ad¬ 
vancing in our journey without further labour. The stars 
were beginning to appear, but the brightness of the west 
was not yet gone;—the lake perfectly still, and when we 
first went into the boat we rowed almost close to the shore 


234 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


under steep crags hung with birches : it was like a new- 
discovered country of which we had not dreamed, for in 
walking down the lake, owing to the road in that part 
being carried at a considerable height on the hill-side, the 
rocks and the indentings of the shore had been hidden from 
us. At this time, those rocks and their images in the 
calm water composed one mass, the surfaces of both equally 
distinct, except where the water trembled with the motion 
of our boat. Having rowed a while under the bold steeps, 
we launched out further when the shores were no longer 
abrupt. We hardly spoke to each other as we moved along 
receding from the west, which diffused a solemn animation 
over the lake. The sky was cloudless; and everything 
seemed at rest except our solitary boat, and the mountain- 
streams,—seldom heard, and but faintly. I think I have 
rarely experienced a more elevated pleasure than during 
our short voyage of this night. The good woman had 
long been looking out for us, and had prepared everything 
for our refreshment; and as soon as we had finished supper, 
or rather tea, we went to bed. William, I doubt not, rested 
well, and, for my part, I slept as soundly on my chaff bed 
as ever I have done in childhood after the long day’s play¬ 
ing of a summer’s holiday. 

Tuesday, 1 3th September .—Again a fine morning. I 
strolled into the green field in which the house stands 
while the woman was preparing breakfast, and at my return 
found one of her neighbours sitting by the fire, a feeble 
paralytic old woman. After having inquired concerning 
our journey the day before, she said, ‘ I have travelled far 
in my time,’ and told me she had married an English soldier 
who had been stationed at the Garrison; they had had 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


235 


many children, who were all dead or in foreign countries; 
and she had returned to her native place, where now she 
had lived several years, and was more comfortable than she 
could ever have expected to be, being very kindly dealt 
with by all her neighbours. Pointing to the ferryman 
and his wife, she said they were accustomed to give her a 
day of their labour in digging peats, in common with others, 
and in that manner she was provided with fuel, and, by 
like voluntary contributions, with other necessaries. While 
this infirm old woman was relating her story in a tremu¬ 
lous voice, I could not but think of the changes of things, 
and the days of her youth, when the shrill fife, sounding 
from the walls of the Garrison, made a merry noise through 
the echoing hills. I asked myself, if she were to be carried 
again to the deserted spot after her course of life, no doubt 
a troublesome one, would the silence appear to her the 
silence of desolation or of peace 1 

After breakfast we took a final leave of our hostess, and, 
attended by her husband, again set forward on foot. My 
limbs were a little stiff, but the morning being uncommonly 
fine I did not fear to aim at the accomplishment of a plan 
we had laid of returning to Callander by a considerable 
circuit. We were to go over the mountains from Loch Ket- 
terine, a little below the ferry-house on the same side of 
the water, descending to Loch Voil, a lake from which 
issues the stream that flows through Strath Eyer into Loch 
Lubnaig. Our road, as is generally the case in passing 
from one vale into another, was through a settling between 
the hills, not far from a small stream. We had to climb 
considerably, the mountain being much higher than it ap¬ 
pears to be, owing to its retreating in what looks like a 
gradual slope from the lake, though we found it steep 


236 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


enough in the climbing. Our guide had been born near 
Loch Voil, and he told us that at the head of the lake, if 
we would look about for it, we should see the burying- 
place of a part of his family, the MacGregors, a clan who 
had long possessed that district, a circumstance which he 
related with no unworthy pride of ancestry. We shook 
hands with him at parting, not without a hope of again 
entering his hut in company with others whom we loved. 

Continued to walk for some time along the top of the 
hill, having the high mountains of Loch Voil before us, and 
Ben Lomond and the steeps of Loch Ketterine behind. 
Came to several deserted mountain huts or shiels, and rested 
for some time beside one of them, upon a hillock of its green 
plot of monumental herbage. William here conceived the 
notion of writing an ode upon the affecting subject of those 
relics of human society found in that grand and solitary 
region. The spot of ground where we sate was even beautiful, 
the grass being uncommonly verdant, and of a remarkably 
soft and silky texture. 

After this we rested no more till we came to the foot of 
the mountain, where there was a cottage, at the door of 
which a woman invited me to drink some whey: this I 
did, while William went to inquire respecting the road at a 
new stone house a few steps further. He was told to cross 
the brook, and proceed to the other side of the vale, and 
that no further directions were necessary, for we should find 
ourselves at the head of the lake, and on a plain road which 
would lead us downward. We waded the river and crossed 
the vale, perhaps half a mile or more. The mountains all 
round are very high ; the vale pastoral and unenclosed, not 
many dwellings, and but few trees; the mountains in 
general smooth near the bottom. They are in large un- 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND . 


237 


broken masses, combining with the vale to give an impres¬ 
sion of bold simplicity. 

Near the head of the lake, at some distance from us, we 
discovered the burial-place of the MacGregors, and did not 
view it without some interest, with its ornamental balls 
on the four corners of the wall, which, I daresay, have been 
often looked at with elevation of heart by our honest friend 
of Loch Ketterine. The lake is divided right across by a 
narrow slip of flat land, making a small lake at the head of 
the large one. The whole may be about five miles long. 

As we descended, the scene became more fertile, our 
way being pleasantly varied—through coppices or open 
fields, and passing farm-houses, though always with an inter¬ 
mixture of uncultivated ground. It was harvest-time, and 
the fields were quietly—might I be allowed to say pensively 1 
—enlivened by small companies of reapers. It is not un¬ 
common in the more lonely parts of the Highlands to see 
a single person so employed. The following poem was 
suggested to William by a beautiful sentence in Thomas 
Wilkinson’s 1 Tour in Scotland : ’ 15 — 

Behold her single in the field, 

Yon solitary Highland Lass, 

Reaping and singing by herself— 

Stop here, or gently pass. 

Alone she cuts and binds the grain, 

And sings a melancholy strain. 

Oh! listen, for the Yale profound 
Is overflowing with the sound. 

No nightingale did ever chaunt 
So sweetly to reposing bands 
Of travellers in some shady haunt 
Among Arabian Sands; 


238 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


No sweeter voice was ever heard 
In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird 
Breaking the silence of the seas 
Among the farthest Hebrides. 

Will no one tell me what she sings 1 
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow 
For old unhappy far-off things, 

And battles long ago;— 

Or is it some more humble lay— 

Familiar matter of to-day— 

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain 
That has been, and may be again 1 

Whate’er the theme, the Maiden sung 
As if her song could have no ending ; 

I saw her singing at her work, 

And o’er the sickle bending ; 

I listen’d till I had my fill, 

And as I mounted up the hill 
The music in my heart I bore 
Long after it was heard no more. 

Towards the foot of the lake, on the opposite side, which 
was more barren than that on which we travelled, was a 
bare road up a steep hill, which leads to Glen Finlas, for¬ 
merly a royal forest. It is a wild and rocky glen, as we 
had been told by a person who directed our notice to its 
outlet at Loch Achray. The stream which passes through it 
falls into that lake near the head. At the end of Loch 
Yoil the vale is wide and populous—large pastures with 
many cattle, large tracts of corn. We walked downwards a 
little way, and then crossed over to the same road along 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


239 


which we had travelled from Loch Erne to Callander, 
being once again at the entrance of Strath Eyer. It might 
be about four or five o’clock in the afternoon; we were ten 
miles from Callander, exceedingly tired, and wished heartily 
for the poor horse and car. Walked up Strath Eyer, and 
saw in clear air and sunshine what had been concealed 
from us when we travelled before in the mist and rain. 
We found it less woody and rich than it had appeared to 
be, but, with all deductions, a very sweet valley. 

Not far from Loch Lubnaig, though not in view of it, is 
a long village, with two or three public-houses, and being 
in despair of reaching Callander that night without over¬ 
fatigue we resolved to stop at the most respectable-looking 
house, and, should it not prove wretched indeed, to lodge 
there, if there were beds for us : at any rate, it was necessary 
to take some refreshment. The woman of the house spoke 
with gentleness and civility, and had a good countenance, 
which reconciled me to stay, though I had been averse to 
the scheme, dreading the dirt usual in Scotch public-houses 
by the way-side. She said she had beds for us, and clean 
sheets, and we desired her to prepare them immediately. 
It was a two-storied house, light built, though in other 
respects no better than the huts, and—as all the slated cot¬ 
tages are—much more uncomfortable in appearance, except 
that there was a chimney in the kitchen. At such places 
it is fit that travellers should make up their minds to wait 
at least an hour longer than the time necessary to prepare 
whatever meal they may have ordered, which we, I may 
truly say, did with most temperate philosophy. I went to 
talk with the mistress, who was making barley cakes, which 
she wrought out with her hands as thin as the oaten bread 
we make in Cumberland. I asked her why she did not 


240 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


use a rolling-pin, and if it would not be much more con¬ 
venient, to which she returned me no distinct answer, and 
seemed to give little attention to the question : she did not 
know, or that was what they were used to, or something 
of the sort. It was a tedious process, and I thought could 
scarcely have been managed if the cakes had been as large 
as ours ; but they are considerably smaller, which is a great 
loss of time in the baking. 

This woman, whose common language was the Gaelic, 
talked with me a very good English, asking many questions, 
yet without the least appearance of an obtrusive or imper¬ 
tinent curiosity; and indeed I must say that I never, in 
those women with whom I conversed, observed anything 
on which I could put such a construction. They seemed 
to have a faith ready for all; and as a child, when you are 
telling him stories, asks for ‘ more, more,’ so they appeared 
to delight in being amused without effort of their own 
minds. Among other questions she asked me the old one 
over again, if I was married; and when I told her that I was 
not, she appeared surprised, and, as if recollecting herself, 
said to me, with a pious seriousness and perfect simplicity, 

‘ To be sure, there is a great promise for virgins in Heaven;’ 
and then she began to tell how long she had been married, 
that she had had a large family and much sickness and 
sorrow, having lost several of her children. We had clean 
sheets and decent beds. 

Wednesday , September 14 th .—Rose early, and departed 
before breakfast. The morning was dry, but cold. 
Travelled, as before, along the shores of Loch Lubnaig, and 
along the pass of the roaring stream of Leny, and reached 
Callander at a little past eight o’clock. After breakfast set 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


241 


off towards Stirling, intending to sleep there; the distance 
eighteen miles. We were now entering upon a populous 
and more cultivated country, having left the mountains 
behind, therefore I shall have little to tell; for what is 
most interesting in such a country is not to he seen in 
passing through it as we did. Half way between Callan¬ 
der and Stirling is the village of Doune, and a little further 
on we crossed a bridge over a pleasant river, the Teith. 
Above the river stands a ruined castle of considerable size, 
upon a woody bank. We wished to have had time to go 
up to the ruin. Long before we reached the town of 
Stirling, saw the castle, single, on its stately and com¬ 
manding eminence. The rock or hill rises from a level plain; 
the print in Stoddart’s book does indeed give a good notion 
of its form. The surrounding plain appears to be of a rich 
soil, well cultivated. The crops of ripe corn were abun¬ 
dant. We found the town quite full; not a vacant room 
in the inn, it being the time of the assizes : there was no 
lodging for us, and hardly even the possibility of getting 
anything to eat in a bye-nook of the house. Walked up 
to the castle. The prospect from it is very extensive, and 
must be exceedingly grand on a fine evening or morning, 
with the light of the setting or rising sun on the distant 
mountains, but we saw it at an unfavourable time of day, 
the mid-afternoon, and were not favoured by light and 
shade. The Forth makes most intricate and curious turn¬ 
ings, so that it is difficult to trace them, even when you 
are overlooking the whole. It flows through a perfect level, 
and in one place cuts its way in the form of a large figure 
of eight. Stirling is the largest town we had seen in 
Scotland, except Glasgow. It is an old irregular place; the 
streets towards the castle on one side very steep. On the 

Q 


242 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


other, the hill or rock rises from the fields. The architecture 
of a part of the castle is very fine, and the whole building 
in good repair: some parts indeed, are modern. At 
Stirling we bought Burns’s Poems in one volume, for two 
shillings. Went on to Falkirk, ten or eleven miles. I do 
not recollect anything remarkable after we were out of 
sight of Stirling Castle, except the Carron iron-works, seen 
at a distance;—the sky above them was red with a fiery 
light. In passing through a turnpike gate we were greeted 
by a Highland drover, who, with many others, was coming 
from a fair at Falkirk, the road being covered all along 
with horsemen and cattle. He spoke as if we had been well 
known to him, asking us how we had fared on our journey. 
We were at a loss to conceive why he should interest him¬ 
self about us, till he said he had passed us on the Black 
Mountain, near King’s House. It was pleasant to observe 
the effect of solitary places in making men friends, and to 
see so much kindness, which had been produced in such a 
chance encounter, retained in a crowd. No beds in the 
inns at Falkirk—every room taken up by the people come 
to the fair. Lodged in a private house, a neat clean place 
—kind treatment from the old man and his daughter. 

Thursday , September 15 th .—Breakfasted at Linlithgow, a 
small town. The house is yet shown from which the 
Regent Murray was shot. The remains of a royal palace, 
where Queen Mary was born, are of considerable extent; 
the banks of gardens and fish-ponds may yet be distinctly 
traced, though the whole surface is transformed into smooth 
pasturage where cattle graze. The castle stands upon a 
gentle eminence, the prospect not particularly pleasing, 
though not otherwise ; it is bare and wide. The shell of 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


243 


a small ancient church is standing, into which are crammed 
modern pews, galleries, and pulpit—very ugly, and discor¬ 
dant with the exterior. Nothing very interesting till we 
came to Edinburgh. Dined by the way at a small town 
or village upon a hill, the back part of the houses on one 
side overlooking an extensive prospect over flat corn fields. 
I mention this for the sake of a pleasant hour we passed 
sitting on the bank, where we read some of Burns’s poems 
in the volume which we had bought at Stirling. 

Arrived at Edinburgh a little before sunset. As we 
approached, the castle rock resembled that of Stirling—in 
the same manner appearing to rise from a plain of culti¬ 
vated ground, the Firth of Forth being on the other side, 
and not visible. Drove to the White Hart in the Grass- 
market, an inn which had been mentioned to us, and which 
we conjectured would better suit us than one in a more 
fashionable part of the town. It was not noisy, and toler¬ 
ably cheap. Drank tea, and walked up to the Castle, 
which luckily was very near/ Much of the daylight was 
gone, so that except it had been a clear evening, which it 
was not, we could not have seen the distant prospect. 

Friday , September 1 6th .—The sky the evening before, as 
you may remember the ostler told us, had been ‘ gay and 
dull,’ and this morning it was downright dismal: very 
dark, and promising nothing but a wet day, and before 
breakfast was over the rain began, though not heavily. We 
set out upon our walk, and went through many streets to 
Holyrood House, and thence to the hill called Arthur’s 
Seat, a high hill, very rocky at the top, and below covered 
with smooth turf, on which sheep were feeding. We 
climbed up till we came to St. Anthony’s Well and Chapel, 


244 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


as it is called, but it is more like a hermitage than a chapel, 
—a small ruin, which from its situation is exceedingly inter¬ 
esting, though in itself not remarkable. We sate down on 
a stone not far from the chapel, overlooking a pastoral 
hollow as wild and solitary as any in the heart of the High¬ 
land mountains : there, instead of the roaring of torrents, 
we listened to the noises of the city, which were blended in 
one loud indistinct buzz,—a regular sound in the air, which 
in certain moods of feeling, and at certain times, might have 
a more tranquillizing effect upon the mind than those 
which we are accustomed to hear in such places. The 
castle rock looked exceedingly large through the misty air: 
a cloud of black smoke overhung the city, which combined 
with the rain and mist to conceal the shapes of the houses, 
—an obscurity which added much to the grandeur of the 
sound that proceeded from it. It was impossible to think 
of anything that was little or mean, the goings-on of trade, 
the strife of men, or every-day city business :—the impres¬ 
sion was one, and it was visionary; like the conceptions of 
our childhood of Bagdad or Balsora when we have been 
reading the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments. Though the 
rain was very heavy we remained upon the hill for some 
time, then returned by the same road by which we had 
come, through green flat fields, formerly the pleasure-grounds 
of Holyrood House, on the edge of which stands the old 
roofless chapel, of venerable architecture. It is a pity that 
it should be suffered to fall down, for the walls appear to 
be yet entire. Very near to the chapel is Holyrood House, 
which we could not but lament has nothing ancient in its 
appearance, being sash-windowed and not an irregular pile. 
It is very like a building for some national establishment,— 
a hospital for soldiers or sailors. You have a description 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


245 


of it in Stoddart’s Tour, therefore I need not tell you what 
we saw there. 

When we found ourselves once again in the streets of 
the city, we lamented over the heavy rain, and indeed 
before leaving the hill, much as we were indebted to the 
accident of the rain for the peculiar grandeur and affecting 
wildness of those objects we saw, we could not but regret 
that the Firth of Forth was entirely hidden from us, and 
all distant objects, and we strained our eyes till they 
ached, vainly trying to pierce through the thick mist. We 
walked industriously through the streets, street after street, 
and, in spite of wet and dirt, were exceedingly delighted. 
The old town, with its irregular houses, stage above stage, 
seen as we saw it, in the obscurity of a rainy day, hardly 
resembles the work of men, it is more like a piling up of 
rocks, and I cannot attempt to describe what we saw so 
imperfectly, but must say that, high as my expectations 
had been raised, the city of Edinburgh far surpassed all 
expectation. Gladly would we have stayed another day, 
but could not afford more time, and our notions of the 
weather of Scotland were so dismal, notwithstanding we 
ourselves had been so much favoured, that we had no hope 
of its mending. So at about six o’clock in the evening we 
departed, intending to sleep at an inn in the village of 
Roslin, about five miles from Edinburgh. The rain con¬ 
tinued till we were almost at Roslin; but then it was quite 
dark, so we did not see the castle that night. 

Saturday , September 17 th .—The morning very fine. We 
rose early and walked through the glen of Roslin, past 
Hawthornden, and considerably further, to the house of 
Mr. Walter Scott at Lasswade. Roslin Castle stands upon 


246 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


a woody bank above a stream, the North Esk, too large, I 
think, to be called a brook, yet an inconsiderable river. 
We looked down upon the ruin from higher ground. 
Near it stands the chapel, a most elegant building, a ruin, 
though the walls and roof are entire. I never passed 
through a more delicious dell than the glen of Eoslin, 
though the water of the stream is dingy and muddy. The 
banks are rocky on each side, and hung with pine wood. 
About a mile from the castle, on the contrary side of the 
water, upon the edge of a very steep bank, stands Haw- 
thornden, the house of Drummond the poet, whither Ben 
Jonson came on foot from London to visit his friend. We 
did hear to whom the house at present belongs, and some 
other particulars, but I have a very indistinct recollection 
of what was told us, except that many old trees had been 
lately cut down. After Hawthornden the glen widens, 
ceases to be rocky, and spreads out into a rich vale, scat¬ 
tered over with gentlemen’s seats. 

Arrived at Lasswade before Mr. and Mrs. Scott had 
risen, and waited some time in a large sitting-room. 
Breakfasted with them, and stayed till two o’clock, and 
Mr. Scott accompanied us back almost to Eoslin, having 
given us directions respecting our future journey, and pro¬ 
mised to meet us at Melrose two days after.* 

We ordered dinner on our return to the inn, and 
went to view the inside of the chapel of Eoslin, which is 
kept locked up, and so preserved from the injuries it might 
otherwise receive from idle boys; but as nothing is done 

* See Lockhart’s Life of Scott for an account of this visit, vol. i. p. 
402-7. Mr. L. says, ‘ I have drawn up the account of this meeting from 
my recollection, partly of Mr. W.’s conversation, partly from that of his 
sister’s charming “ Diary,” which he was so kind as to read to me on the 
16th May 1836.’—^. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND . 


247 


to keep it together, it must in the end fall. The archi¬ 
tecture within is exquisitely beautiful. The stone both of 
the roof and walls is sculptured with leaves and flowers, so 
delicately wrought that I could have admired them for 
hours, and the whole of their groundwork is stained by 
time with the softest colours. Some of those leaves and 
flowers were tinged perfectly green, and at one part the 
effect was most exquisite : three or four leaves of a small 
fern, resembling that which we call adder’s tongue, grew 
round a cluster of them at the top of a pillar, and the 
natural product and the artificial were so intermingled that 
at first it was not easy to distinguish the living plant from 
the other, they being of an equally determined green, though 
the fern was of a deeper shade. 

We set forward again after dinner. The afternoon was 
pleasant. Travelled through large tracts of ripe corn, in¬ 
terspersed with larger tracts of moorland—the houses at a 
considerable distance from each other, no longer thatched 
huts, but farm-houses resembling those of the farming 
counties in England, having many corn-stacks close to 
them. Dark when we reached Peebles; found a comfort¬ 
able old-fashioned public-house, had a neat parlour, and 
drank tea. 


248 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


SIXTH WEEK. 

Sunday , September 18 th .—The town of Peebles is on the 
banks of the Tweed. After breakfast walked up the river 
to Neidpath Castle, about a mile and a half from the town. 
The castle stands upon a green hill, overlooking the Tweed, 
a strong square-towered edifice, neglected and desolate, 
though not in ruin, the garden overgrown with grass, and 
the high walls that fenced it broken down. The Tweed 
winds between green steeps, upon which, and close to 
the river side, large flocks of sheep pasturing; higher still 
are the grey mountains; but I need not describe the scene, 
for William has done it better than I could do in a sonnet 
which he wrote the same day; the five last lines, at least, 
of his poem will impart to you more of the feeling of the 
place than it would be possible for me to do:— 

Degenerate Douglass ! thou unworthy Lord 
Whom mere despite of heart could so far please, 

And love of havoc (for with such disease * 

Fame taxes him) that he could send forth word 
To level with the dust a noble horde, 

A brotherhood of venerable trees, 

Leaving an ancient Dome and Towers like these 
Beggar’d and outraged! Many hearts deplored 
The fate of those old trees; and oft with pain 
The Traveller at this day will stop and gaze 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


249 


On wrongs which Nature scarcely seems to heed; 

For shelter’d places, bosoms, nooks, and bays, 

And the pure mountains, and the gentle Tweed, 

And the green silent pastures yet remain. 

I was spared any regret for the fallen woods when we 
were there, not then knowing the history of them. The 
soft low mountains, the castle, and the decayed pleasure- 
grounds, the scattered trees which have been left in differ¬ 
ent parts, and the road carried in a very beautiful line 
along the side of the hill, with the Tweed murmuring 
through the unfenced green pastures spotted with sheep, 
together composed an harmonious scene, and I wished for 
nothing that was not there. When we were with Mr. 
Scott he spoke of cheerful days he had spent in that castle 
not many years ago, when it was inhabited by Professor 
Ferguson and his family, whom the Duke of Queensberry, 
its churlish owner, forced to quit it. We discovered a 
very fine echo within a few yards of the building. 

The town of Peebles looks very pretty from the road in 
returning: it is an old town, built of grey stone, the same 
as the castle. Well-dressed people were going to church. 
Sent the car before, and walked ourselves, and while going 
along the main street William was called aside in a mys¬ 
terious manner by a person who gravely examined him— 
whether he was an Irishman or a foreigner, or what he 
was; I suppose our car was the occasion of suspicion at a 
time when every one was talking of the threatened inva¬ 
sion. We had a day’s journey before us along the banks 
of the Tweed, a name which has been sweet to my ears 
almost as far back as I can remember anything. After 
the first mile or two our road was seldom far from the 


250 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


river, which flowed in gentleness, though perhaps never 
silent; the hills on either side high and sometimes stony, 
but excellent pasturage for sheep. In some parts the vale 
was wholly of this pastoral character, in others we saw ex¬ 
tensive tracts of corn ground, even spreading along whole 
hill-sides, and without visible fences, which is dreary in a 
flat country; but there is no dreariness on the banks of the 
Tweed,—the hills, whether smooth or stony, uncultivated 
or covered with ripe corn, had the same pensive softness. 
Near the corn tracts were large farm-houses, with many 
corn-stacks ; the stacks and house and out-houses together, 
I recollect, in one or two places upon the hills, at a little 
distance, seemed almost as large as a small village or ham¬ 
let. It was a clear autumnal day, without wind, and, 
being Sunday, the business of the harvest was suspended, 
and all that we saw, and felt, and heard, combined to ex¬ 
cite one sensation of pensive and still pleasure. 

Passed by several old halls yet inhabited, and others in 
ruin; but I have hardly a sufficiently distinct recollection 
of any of them to be able to describe them, and I now at 
this distance of time regret that I did not take notes. In 
one very sweet part of the vale a gate crossed the road, 
which was opened by an old woman who lived in a cottage 
close to it; I said to her, ‘You live in a very pretty place!’ 
‘ Yes,’ she replied, ‘ the water of Tweed is a bonny water.’ 
The lines of the hills are flowing and beautiful, the reaches 
of the vale long; in some places appear the remains of a 
forest, in others you will see as lovely a combination of 
forms as any traveller who goes in search of the picturesque 
need desire, and yet perhaps without a single tree; or at 
least if trees there are, they shall be very few, and he 
shall not care whether they are there or not. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


251 


The road took us through one long village, but I do not 
recollect any other; yet I think we never had a mile’s 
length before us without a house, though seldom several 
cottages together. The loneliness of the scattered dwell¬ 
ings, the more stately edifices decaying or in ruin, or, if 
inhabited, not in their pride and freshness, aided the general 
effect of the gently varying scenes, which was that of ten¬ 
der pensiveness; no bursting torrents when we were there, 
but the murmuring of the river was heard distinctly, often 
blended with the bleating of sheep. In one place we saw 
a shepherd lying in the midst of a flock upon a sunny 
knoll, with his face towards the sky, happy picture of 
shepherd life. 

The transitions of this vale were all gentle except one, a 
scene of which a gentleman’s house was the centre, stand¬ 
ing low in the vale, the hills above it covered with gloomy 
fir plantations, and the appearance of the house itself, 
though it could scarcely be seen, was gloomy. There was 
an allegorical air—a person fond of Spenser will understand 
me—in this uncheerful spot, single in such a country, 

‘ The house was hears’d about with a black wood.’ 

We have since heard that it is the residence of Lord 
Traquair, a Roman Catholic nobleman, of a decayed 
family. 

We left the Tweed when we were within about a mile 
and a half or two miles of Clovenford, where we were to 
lodge. Turned up the side of a hill, and went along sheep- 
grounds till we reached the spot—a single stone house, 
without a tree near it or to be seen from it. On our 
mentioning Mr. Scott’s name the woman of the house showed 
us all possible civility, but her slowness was really amus- 


252 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


ing. I should suppose it is a house little frequented, for 
there is no appearance of an inn. Mr. Scott, who she told 
me was a very clever gentleman, ‘ goes there in the fishing 
season ;’ but indeed Mr. Scott is respected everywhere : I 
believe that by favour of his name one might be hospitably 
entertained throughout all the borders of Scotland. We 
dined and drank tea—did not walk out, for there was 
no temptation; a confined barren prospect from the 
window. 

At Clovenford, being so near to the Yarrow, we could 
not but think of the possibility of going thither, but came 
to the conclusion of reserving the pleasure for some future 
time, in consequence of which, after our return, William 
wrote the poem which I shall here transcribe :— 

From Stirling Castle we had seen 
The mazy Forth unravell’d, 

Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay, 

And with the Tweed had travell’d. 

And when we came to Clovenford, 

Then said my winsome Marrow, 

‘ Whate’er betide we ’ll turn aside 
And see the Braes of Yarrow.’ 

‘ Let Yarrow Folk frae Selkirk Town, 

Who have been buying, selling, 

Go back to Yarrow :—’tis their own, 

Each Maiden to her dwelling. 

On Yarrow’s banks let herons feed, 

Hares couch, and rabbits burrow, 

But we will downwards with the Tweed, 

Nor turn aside to Yarrow. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. , 


253 


‘ There’s Gala Water, Leader Haughs, 

Both lying right before us ; 

And Dryburgh, where with chiming Tweed 
The lint whites sing in chorus. 

There’s pleasant Teviot Dale, a land 
Made blithe with plough and harrow, 

Why throw away a needful day, 

To go in search of Yarrow 1 

‘ What’s Yarrow but a river bare, 

That glides the dark hills under 1 
There are a thousand such elsewhere, 

As worthy of your wonder.’ 

Strange words they seem’d of slight and scorn, 
My true-love sigh’d for sorrow, 

And look’d me in the face to think 
I thus could speak of Yarrow. 

* Oh ! green,’ said I, ‘ are Yarrow’s Holms, 
And sweet is Yarrow flowing, 

Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, 

But we will leave it growing. 

O’er hilly path and open Strath 
We’ll wander Scotland thorough, 

But though so near we will not turn 
Into the Dale of Yarrow. 

‘ Let beeves and home-bred kine partake 
The sweets of Burnmill Meadow, 

The swan on still St. Mary’s Lake 
Float double, swan and shadow. 

We will not see them, will not go, 

To-day nor yet to-morrow ; 

Enough if in our hearts we know 
There’s such a place as Yarrow. 


254 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


1 Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown, 

It must, or we shall rue it, 

We have a vision of our own, 

Ah ! why should we undo it 1 

The treasured dreams of times long past, 

We ’ll keep them, “ winsome Marrow,” 

For when we ’re there, although ’tis fair, 

’Twill be another Yarrow. 

‘ If care with freezing years should come, 

And wandering seem but folly, 

Should we be loth to stir from home, 

And yet be melancholy, 

Should life he dull and spirits low, 

’Twill soothe us in our sorrow 

That earth has something yet to show— 

The bonny Holms of Yarrow.’* 

The next day we were to meet Mr. Scott, and again join 
the Tweed. I wish I could have given you a better idea 
of what we saw between Peebles and this place. I have 
most distinct recollections of the effect of the whole day’s 
journey ; but the objects are mostly melted together in my 
memory, and though I should recognise them if we revisit 
the place, I cannot call them out so as to represent them 
to you with distinctness. William, in attempting in verse 
to describe this part of the Tweed, says of it, 

More pensive in sunshine 
Than others in moonshine. 

which perhaps may give you more power to conceive what 
it is than all I have said. 


* See Appendix G. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


255 


Monday, September 19 th .—We rose early, and went to 
Melrose, six miles, before breakfast. After ascending a 
hill, descended, and overlooked a dell, on the opposite side 
of which was an old mansion, surrounded with trees and 
steep gardens, a curious and pleasing, yet melancholy spot; 
for the house and gardens were evidently going to decay, 
and the whole of the small dell, except near the house, 
was unenclosed and uncultivated, being a sheep-walk to 
the top of the hills. Descended to Gala Water, a pretty 
stream, but much smaller than the Tweed, into which the 
brook flows from the glen I have spoken of. Near the 
Gala is a large modern house, the situation very pleasant, 
but the old building which we had passed put to shame 
the fresh colouring and meagre outline of the new one. 
Went through a part of the village of Galashiels, pleasantly 
situated on the bank of the stream; a pretty place it once 
has been, but a manufactory is established there; and a 
townish bustle and ugly stone houses are fast taking place of 
the brown-roofed thatched cottages, of which a great number 
yet remain, partly overshadowed by trees. Left the Gala, 
and, after crossing the open country, came again to the 
Tweed, and pursued our way as before near the river, per¬ 
haps for a mile or two, till we arrived at Melrose. The 
valley for this short space was not so pleasing as before, 
the hills more broken, and though the cultivation was 
general, yet the scene was not rich, while it had lost its 
pastoral simplicity. At Melrose the vale opens out wide; 
but the hills are high all round—single distinct risings. 
After breakfast we went out, intending to go to the Abbey, 
and in the street met Mr. Scott, who gave us a cordial 
greeting, and conducted us thither himself. He was here 
on his own ground, for he is familiar with all that is 


256 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


known of the authentic history of Melrose and the popular 
tales connected with it. He pointed out many pieces of 
beautiful sculpture in obscure corners which would have 
escaped our notice. The Abbey has been built of a pale 
red stone; that part which was first erected of a very 
durable kind, the sculptured flowers and leaves and other 
minute ornaments being as perfect in many places as when 
first wrought. The ruin is of considerable extent, but unfor¬ 
tunately it is almost surrounded by insignificant houses, so 
that when you are close to it you see it entirely separated 
from many rural objects, and even when viewed from a 
distance the situation does not seem to be particularly 
happy, for the vale is broken and disturbed, and the 
Abbey at a distance from the river, so that you do not 
look upon them as companions of each other. And surely 
this is a national barbarism: within these beautiful walls is 
the ugliest church that was ever beheld—if it had been hewn 
out of the side of a hill it could not have been more dismal; 
there was no neatness, nor even decency, and it appeared 
to be so damp, and so completely excluded from fresh air, 
that it must be dangerous to sit in it; the floor is unpaved, 
and very rough. What a contrast to the beautiful and 
graceful order apparent in every part of the ancient design 
and workmanship! Mr. Scott went with us into the 
gardens and orchard of a Mr. Riddel, from which we had 
a very sweet view of the Abbey through trees, the town 
being entirely excluded. Dined with Mr. Scott at the 
inn; he was now travelling to the assizes at Jedburgh in 
his character of Sheriff of Selkirk, and on that account, as 
well as for his own sake, he was treated with great respect, 
a small part of which was vouchsafed to us as his friends, 
though I could not persuade the woman to show me the 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


257 


beds, or to make any sort of promise till she was assured 
from the Sheriff himself that he had no objection to sleep 
in the same room with William. 

Tuesday , September 20 th. —Mr. Scott departed very early 
for Jedburgh, and we soon followed, intending to go by 
Dry burgh to Kelso. It was a fine morning. We went 
without breakfast, being told that there was a public-house 
at Dryburgh. The road was very pleasant, seldom out of 
sight of the Tweed for any length of time, though not 
often close to it. The valley is not so pleasantly defined 
as between Peebles and Clovenford, yet so soft and beauti¬ 
ful, and in many parts pastoral, but that peculiar and 
pensive simplicity which I have spoken of before was 
wanting, yet there was a fertility chequered with wildness 
which to many travellers would be more than a compensa¬ 
tion. The reaches of the vale were shorter, the turnings 
more rapid, the banks often clothed with wood. In one 
place was a lofty scar, at another a green promontory, a 
small hill skirted by the river, the hill above irregular and 
green, and scattered over with trees. We wished we 
could have brought the ruins of Melrose to that spot, and 
mentioned this to Mr. Scott, who told us that the monks 
had first fixed their abode there, and raised a temporary 
building of wood. The monastery of Melrose was founded 
by a colony from Rievaux Abbey in Yorkshire, which 
building it happens to resemble in the colour of the stone, 
and I think partly in the style of architecture, but is much 
smaller, that is, has been much smaller, for there is not at 
Rievaux any one single part of the ruin so large as the 
remains of the church at Melrose, though at Rievaux a far 
more extensive ruin remains. It is also much grander, 


258 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


and the situation at present much more beautiful, that 
ruin not having suffered like Melrose Abbey from the 
encroachments of a town. The architecture at Melrose is, 
I believe, superior in the exactness and taste of some of 
the minute ornamental parts; indeed, it is impossible to 
conceive anything more delicate than the workmanship, 
especially in the imitations of flowers. 

We descended to Dry burgh after having gone a con¬ 
siderable way upon high ground. A heavy rain when we 
reached the village, and there was no public-house. A 
well-dressed, well-spoken woman courteously—shall I say 
charitably ?—invited us into her cottage, and permitted us 
to make breakfast; she showed us into a neat parlour, 
furnished with prints, a mahogany table, and other things 
which I was surprised to see, for her husband was only a 
day-labourer, but she had been Lady Buchan’s waiting- 
maid, which acccounted for these luxuries and for a 
noticeable urbanity in her manners. All the cottages in 
this neighbourhood, if I am not mistaken, were covered 
with red tiles, and had chimneys. After breakfast we set 
out in the rain to the ruins of Dryburgh Abbey, which 
are near Lord Buchan’s house, and, like Bothwell Castle, 
appropriated to the pleasure of the owner. We rang a 
bell at the gate, and, instead of a porter, an old woman 
came to open it through a narrow side-alley cut in a thick 
plantation of evergreens. On entering, saw the thatch of 
her hut just above the trees, and it looked very pretty, but 
the poor creature herself was a figure to frighten a child, 
—bowed almost double, having a hooked nose and over¬ 
hanging eyebrows, a complexion stained brown with 
smoke, and a cap that might have been worn for months 
and never washed. No doubt she had been cowering over 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


259 


her peat fire, for if she had emitted smoke by her breath 
and through every pore, the odour could not have been 
stronger. This ancient woman, by right of office, attended 
us to show off the curiosities, and she had her tale as 
perfect, though it was not quite so long a one, as the 
gentleman Swiss, whom I remember to have seen at Blen¬ 
heim with his slender wand and dainty white clothes. 
The house of Lord Buchan and the Abbey stand upon a 
large flat peninsula, a green holm almost covered with 
fruit-trees. The ruins of Dry burgh are much less exten¬ 
sive than those of Melrose, and greatly inferior both in 
the architecture and stone, which is much mouldered away. 
Lord Buchan has trained pear-trees along the walls, which 
are bordered with flowers and gravel walks, and he has 
made a pigeon-house, and a fine room in the ruin, orna¬ 
mented with a curiously-assorted collection of busts of 
eminent men, in which lately a ball was given; yet, de¬ 
ducting for all these improvements, which are certainly 
much less offensive than you could imagine, it is a 
very sweet ruin, standing so enclosed in wood, which the 
towers overtop, that you cannot know that it is not in a 
state of natural desolation till you are close to it. The 
opposite bank of the Tweed is steep and woody, but unfor¬ 
tunately many of the trees are firs. The old woman fol¬ 
lowed us after the fashion of other guides, but being slower 
of foot than a younger person, it was not difficult to slip 
away from the scent of her poor smoke-dried body. She 
was sedulous in pointing out the curiosities, which, I doubt 
not, she had a firm belief were not to be surpassed in 
England or Scotland. 

Having promised us a sight of the largest and oldest 
yew-tree ever seen, she conducted us to it; it was a goodly 


260 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


tree, but a mere dwarf compared with several of our own 
country—not to speak of the giant of Lorton. We re¬ 
turned to the cottage, and waited some time in hopes that 
the rain would abate, but it grew worse and worse, and 
we were obliged to give up our journey to Kelso, taking 
the direct road to Jedburgh. 

We had to ford the Tweed, a wide river at the crossing- 
place. It would have been impossible to drive the horse 
through, for he had not forgotten the fright at Connel Ferry, 
so we hired a man to lead us. After crossing the water, 
the road goes up the bank, and we had a beautiful view 
of the ruins of the Abbey, peering above the trees of the 
woody peninsula, which, in shape, resembles that formed 
by the Tees at Lickburn, but is considerably smaller. 
Lord Buchan’s house is a very neat, modest building, and 
almost hidden by trees. It soon began to rain heavily. 
Crossing the Teviot by a stone bridge—the vale in that 
part very wide—there was a great deal of ripe corn, but a 
want of trees, and no appearance of richness. Arrived at 
Jedburgh half an hour before the Judges were expected 
out of Court to dinner. 

We gave in our passport—the name of Mr. Scott, the 
Sheriff—and were very civilly treated, but, there was no 
vacant room in the house except the Judge’s sitting-room, 
and we wanted to have a fire, being exceedingly wet and 
cold. I was conducted into that room, on condition that I 
would give it up the moment the Judge came from Court. 
After I had put off my wet clothes I went up into a bed¬ 
room, and sate shivering there, till the people of the inn 
had procured lodgings for us in a private house. 

We were received with hearty welcome by a good woman, 
who, though above seventy years old, moved about as 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


261 


briskly as if slie was only seventeen. Those parts of the 
house which we were to occupy were neat and clean ; she 
showed me every corner, and, before I had been ten minutes 
in the house, opened her very drawers that I might see 
what a stock of linen she had; then asked me how long 
we should stay, and said she wished we were come for three 
months. She was a most remarkable person ; the alacrity 
with which she ran up-stairs when we rung the bell, and 
guessed at, and strove to prevent, our wants was surprising ; 
she had a quick eye, and keen strong features, and a joy¬ 
ousness in her motions, like what used to be in old Molly 
when she was particularly elated. I found afterwards that 
she had been subject to fits of dejection and ill-health : we 
then conjectured that her overflowing gaiety and strength 
might in part be attributed to the same cause as her former 
dejection. Her husband was deaf and infirm, and sate in 
a chair with scarcely the power to move a limb—an affect¬ 
ing contrast! The old woman said they had been a very 
hard-working pair; they had wrought like slaves at their 
trade—her husband had been a currier; and she told me 
how they had portioned off their daughters with money, 
and each a feather-bed, and that in their old age they had 
laid out the little they could spare in building and furnish¬ 
ing that house, and she added with pride that she had 
lived in her youth in the family of Lady Egerton, who 
was no high lady, and now was in the habit of coming to 
her house whenever she was at Jedburgh, and a hundred 
other things; for when she once began with Lady Egerton, 
she did not know how to stop, nor did I wish it, for she 
was very entertaining. Mr. Scott sate with us an hour or 
two, and repeated a part of the Lay of the Last Minstrel. 
When he was gone our hostess came to see if we wanted 


262 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


anything, and to wish us good-night. On all occasions 
her manners were governed by the same spirit: there was 
no withdrawing one’s attention from her. We were so 
much interested that William, long afterwards, thought it 
worth while to express in verse the sensations which she 
had excited, and which then remained as vividly in his 
mind as at the moment when we lost sight of Jedburgh :— 

Age ! twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers, 

And call a train of laughing Hours; 

And bid them dance, and bid them sing, 

And Thou, too, mingle in the Ring! 

Take to thy heart a new delight! 

If not, make merry in despite 

That one should breathe who scorns thy power. 

—But dance ! for under Jedborough Tower 
A Matron dwells who, tho’ she bears 
Our mortal complement of years, 

Lives in the light of youthful glee, 

And she will dance and sing with thee. 

Nay! start not at that Figure—there ! 

Him who is rooted to his Chair! 

Look at him, look again; for He 
Hath long been of thy Family. 

With legs that move not, if they can, 

And useless arms, a Trunk of Man, 

He sits, and with a vacant eye; 

A Sight to make a Stranger sigh! 

Deaf, drooping, such is now his doom; 

His world is in that single room— 

Is this a place for mirthful cheer 1 
Can merry-making enter here 1 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


263 


The joyous Woman is the Mate 
Of him in that forlorn estate; 

He breathes a subterraneous damp ; 
But bright as Vesper shines her lamp, 
He is as mute as Jedborough Tower, 
She jocund as it was of yore 
With all its bravery on, in times 
When all alive with merry chimes 
Upon a sun-bright morn of May 
It roused the Vale to holiday. 

I praise thee, Matron! and thy due 
Is praise, heroic praise and true. 

With admiration I behold 
Thy gladness unsubdued and bold : 
Thy looks, thy gestures, all present 
The picture of a life well spent; 

This do I see, and something more, 

A strength unthought of heretofore. 
Delighted am I for thy sake, 

And yet a higher joy partake : 

Our human nature throws away 
Its second twilight, and looks gay, 

A Land of promise and of pride 
Unfolding, wide as life is wide. 

Ah! see her helpless Charge ! enclosed 
Within himself as seems, composed ; 

To fear of loss and hope of gain, 

The strife of happiness and pain— 
Utterly dead! yet in the guise 
Of little Infants when their eyes 


264 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


Begin to follow to and fro 
The persons that before them go, 

He tracks her motions, quick or slow. 

Her buoyant spirits can prevail 
Where common cheerfulness would fail. 
She strikes upon him with the heat 
Of July suns; he feels it sweet; 

An animal delight, though dim! 

’ Tis all that now remains for him ! 

I look’d, I scann’d her o’er and o’er, 

And, looking, wondered more and more: 
When suddenly I seem’d to espy 
A trouble in her strong black eye, 

A remnant of uneasy light, 

A flash of something over-bright! 

Not long this mystery did detain 
My thoughts. She told in pensive strain 
That she had borne a heavy yoke, 

Been stricken by a twofold stroke; 

Ill health of body, and had pined 
Beneath worse ailments of the mind. 

So be it!—but let praise ascend 
To Him who is our Lord and Friend ! 
Who from disease and suffering 
As bad almost as Life can bring, 

Hath call’d for thee a second Spring; 
Bepaid thee for that sore distress 
By no untimely joyousness ; 

Which makes of thine a blissful state; 
And cheers thy melancholy Mate ! 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


265 


Wednesday, September 21 st .—The house where we lodged 
was airy, and even cheerful, though one of a line of houses 
bordering on the churchyard, which is the highest part of 
the town, overlooking a great portion of it to the opposite 
hills. The kirk is, as at Melrose, within the walls of a 
conventual church; but the ruin is much less beautiful, 
and the church a very neat one. The churchyard was full 
of graves, and exceedingly slovenly and dirty; one most 
indecent practice I observed : several women brought their 
linen to the flat table-tombstones, and, having spread it 
upon them, began to batter as hard as they could with a 
wooden roller, a substitute for a mangle. 

After Mr. Scott’s business in the Courts was over, he 
walked with us up the Jed—‘sylvan Jed’ it has been pro¬ 
perly called by Thomson—for the banks are yet very woody, 
though wood in large quantities has been felled within a 
few years. There are some fine red scars near the river, in 
one or two of which we saw the entrances to caves, said to 
have been used as places of refuge in times of insecurity. 

Walked up to Ferniehurst, an old hall, in a secluded 
situation, now inhabited by farmers; the neighbouring 
ground had the wildness of a forest, being irregularly 
scattered over with fine old trees. The wind was tossing 
their branches, and sunshine dancing among the leaves, 
and I happened to exclaim, ‘ What a life there is in trees! ’ 
on which Mr. Scott observed that the words reminded him 
of a young lady who had been born and educated on an 
island of the Orcades, and came to spend a summer at Kelso 
and in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh. She used to say 
that in the new world into which she was come nothing 
had disappointed her so much as trees and woods; she 
complained that they were lifeless, silent, and, compared 


266 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


with the grandeur of the ever-changing ocean, even insipid. 
At first I was surprised, but the next moment I felt that 
the impression was natural. Mr. Scott said that she was 
a very sensible young woman, and had read much. She 
talked with endless rapture and feeling of the power and 
greatness of the ocean; and with the same passionate 
attachment returned to her native island without any pro¬ 
bability of quitting it again. 

The valley of the Jed is very solitary immediately under 
Ferniehurst ; we walked down the river, wading almost up 
to the knees in fern, which in many parts overspread the 
forest-ground. It made me think of our walks at Allfox- 
den, and of our own park—though at Ferniehurst is no park 
at present—and the slim fawns that we used to startle from 
their couching-places among the fern at the top of the 
hill. We were accompanied on our walk by a young man 
from the Braes of Yarrow, an acquaintance of Mr. Scott’s, 
who, having been much delighted with some of William’s 
poems which he had chanced to see in a newspaper, had 
wished to be introduced to him ; he lived in the most re¬ 
tired part of the dale of Yarrow, where he had a farm : 
he was fond of reading, and well informed, but at first 
meeting as shy as any of our Grasmere lads, and not less 
rustic in his appearance. He had been in the Highlands, 
and gave me such an account of Loch Rannoch as made 
us regret that we had not persevered in our journey thither, 
especially as he told us that the bad road ended at a very 
little distance from the place where we had turned back, 
and that we should have come into another good road, con¬ 
tinued all along the shore of the lake. He also mentioned 
that there was a very fine view from the steeple at Dunkeld. 

* W. Laidlaw. See Scott’s Life, vol. i. 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


267 


The town of Jedburgh, in returning along the road, as it 
is seen through the gently winding narrow valley, looks 
exceedingly beautiful on its low eminence, surmounted by 
the conventual tower, which is arched over, at the summit, 
by light stone-work resembling a coronet; the effect at a 
distance is very graceful. The hills all round are high, 
and rise rapidly from the town, which though it stands 
considerably above the river, yet, from every side except 
that on which we walked, appears to stand in a bottom. 

We had our dinner sent from the inn, and a bottle of 
wine, that we might not disgrace the Sheriff, who supped 
with us in the evening,—stayed late, and repeated some of 
his poem. 

Thursday , September 22 d .—After breakfast, the minister, 
Dr. Somerville, called upon us with Mr. Scott, and we went 
to the manse, a very pretty house, with pretty gardens, and 
in a beautiful situation, though close to the town. Dr. 
Somerville and his family complained bitterly of the devas¬ 
tation that had been made among the woods within view 
from their windows, which looked up the Jed. He con¬ 
ducted us to the church, which under his directions has 
been lately repaired, and is a very neat place within. Dr. 
Somerville spoke of the dirt and other indecencies in the 
churchyard, and said that he had taken great pains to put 
a stop to them, but wholly in vain. The business of the 
assizes closed this day, and we went into Court to hear 
the Judge pronounce his charge, which was the most curious 
specimen of old woman’s oratory and newspaper-paragraph 
loyalty that was ever heard. When all was over they 
returned to the inn in procession, as they had come, to the 
sound of a trumpet, the Judge first, in his robes of red, 


268 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


the Sheriffs next, in large cocked hats, and inferior officers 
following, a show not much calculated to awe the beholders. 
After this we went to the inn. The landlady and her 
sister inquired if we had been comfortable, and lamented 
that they had not had it in their power to pay us more 
attention. I began to talk with them, and found out that 
they were from Cumberland : they knew Captain and Mrs. 
Wordsworth, who had frequently been at Jedburgh, Mrs. 
Wordsworth’s sister having married a gentleman of that 
neighbourhood. They spoke of them with great pleasure. 
I returned to our lodgings to take leave of the old woman, 
who told me that I had behaved ‘ very discreetly,’ and 
seemed exceedingly sorry that we were leaving her so 
soon. She had been out to buy me some pears, saying 
that I must take away some ‘ Jedderd ’ pears. We learned 
afterwards that Jedburgh is famous in Scotland for pears, 
which were first cultivated there in the gardens of the 
monks. 

Mr. Scott was very glad to part from the Judge and his 
retinue, to travel with us in our car to Hawick; his 
servant drove his own gig. The landlady, very kindly, 
had put up some sandwiches and cheese-cakes for me, and 
all the family came out to see us depart. Passed the 
monastery gardens, which are yet gardens, where there are 
many remarkably large old pear-trees. We soon came into 
the vale of Teviot, which is open and cultivated, and 
scattered over with hamlets, villages, and many gentlemen’s 
seats, yet, though there is no inconsiderable quantity of 
wood, you can never, in the wide and cultivated parts of 
the Teviot, get rid of the impression of barrenness, and the 
fir plantations, which in this part are numerous, are for 
ever at war with simplicity. One beautiful spot I recol- 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


269 


lect of a different character, which Mr. Scott took us to see 
a few yards from the road. A stone bridge crossed the 
water at a deep and still place, called Horne’s Pool, from 
a contemplative schoolmaster, who had lived not far from 
it, and was accustomed to walk thither, and spend much 
of his leisure near the river. The valley was here narrow 
and woody. Mr. Scott pointed out to us Ruberslaw, 
Minto Crags, and every other remarkable object in or near 
the vale of Teviot, and we scarcely passed a house for 
which he had not some story. Seeing us look at one, 
which stood high on the hill on the opposite side of the 
river, he told us that a gentleman lived there who, while 
he was in India, had been struck with the fancy of making 
his fortune by a new speculation, and so set about collect¬ 
ing the gods of the country, with infinite pains and no little 
expense, expecting that he might sell them for an enormous 
price. Accordingly, on his return they were offered for 
sale, but no purchasers came. On the failure of this 
scheme, a room was hired in London in which to exhibit 
them as a show; but alas! nobody would come to see ; 
and this curious assemblage of monsters is now, probably, 
quietly lodged in the vale of Teviot. The latter part of 
this gentleman’s history is more affecting :—he had an only 
daughter, whom he had accompanied into Spain two or 
three years ago for the recovery of her health, and so for a 
time saved her from a consumption, which now again 
threatened her, and he was about to leave his pleasant 
residence, and attend her once more on the same errand, 
afraid of the coming winter. 

We passed through a village, whither Leyden, Scott’s 
intimate friend, the author of Scenes of Infancy, was used 
to walk over several miles of moorland country every day 


270 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


to school, a poor barefooted boy. He is now in India, ap¬ 
plying himself to the study of Oriental literature, and, I 
doubt not, it is his dearest thought that he may come and 
end his days upon the banks of Teviot, or some other of 
the Lowland streams—for he is, like Mr. Scott, passionately 
attached to the district of the Borders. 

Arrived at Hawick to dinner; the inn is a large old house 
with walls above a yard thick, formerly a gentleman’s house. 
Did not go out this evening. 

Friday , September 23 d .—Before breakfast, walked with 
Mr. Scott along a high road for about two miles, up a bare 
hill. Hawick is a small town. From the top of the hill 
we had an extensive view over the moors of Liddisdale, 
and saw the Cheviot Hills. We wished we could have 
gone with Mr. Scott into some of the remote dales of this 
country, where in almost every house he can find a home 
and a hearty welcome. But after breakfast we were obliged 
to part with him, which we did with great regret : he 
would gladly have gone with us to Langholm, eighteen 
miles further. Our way was through the vale of Teviot, 
near the banks of the river. 

Passed Branxholm Hall, one of the mansions belonging 
to the Duke of Buccleuch, which we looked at with par¬ 
ticular interest for the sake of the Lay of the Last Minstrel. 
Only a very small part of the original building remains : 
it is a large strong house, old, but not ancient in its ap¬ 
pearance—stands very near the river-side; the banks 
covered with plantations. 

A little further on, met the Edinburgh coach with 
several passengers, the only stage-coach that had passed us 
in Scotland. Coleridge had come home by that convey- 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND . 


271 


ance only a few days before. The quantity of arable land 
gradually diminishes, and the plantations become fewer, 
till at last the river flows open to the sun, mostly through 
unfenced and untilled grounds, a soft pastoral district, both 
the hills and the valley being scattered over with sheep: 
here and there was a single farm-house, or cluster of houses, 
and near them a portion of land covered with ripe corn. 

Near the head of the vale of Teviot, where that stream 
is but a small rivulet, we descended towards another valley, 
by another small rivulet. Hereabouts Mr. Scott had 
directed us to look about for some old stumps of trees, said 
to be the place where Johnny Armstrong was hanged; but 
we could not find them out. The valley into which we 
were descending, though, for aught I know, it is unnamed 
in song, was to us more interesting than the Teviot itself. 
Not a spot of tilled ground was there to break in upon its 
pastoral simplicity ; the same soft yellow green spread from 
the bed of the streamlet to the hill-tops on each side, and 
sheep were feeding everywhere. It was more close and 
simple than the upper end of the vale of Teviot, the valley 
being much narrower, and the hills equally high and not 
broken into parts, but on each side a long range. The 
grass, as we had first seen near Crawfordjohn, had been 
mown in the different places of the open ground, where it 
might chance to be best; but there was no part of the 
surface that looked perfectly barren, as in those tracts. 

We saw a single stone house a long way before us, 
which we conjectured to be, as it proved, Moss Paul, the 
inn where we were to bait. The scene, with this single 
dwelling, was melancholy and wild, but not dreary, though 
there was no tree nor shrub ; the small streamlet glittered, 
the hills were populous with sheep ; but the gentle bend- 


272 


RECOLLECTIONS OF 


ing of the valley, and the correspondent softness in the 
forms of the hills, were of themselves enough to delight the 
eye. At Moss Paul we fed our horse ;—several travellers 
were drinking whisky. We neither ate nor drank, for 
we had, with our usual foresight and frugality in travelling, 
saved the cheese-cakes and sandwiches which had been 
given us by our countrywoman at Jedburgh the day before. 
After Moss Paul, we ascended considerably, then went down 
other reaches of the valley, much less interesting, stony and 
barren. The country afterwards not peculiar, I should 
think, for I scarcely remember it. 

Arrived at Langholm at about five o’clock. The town, 
as we approached, from a hill, looked very pretty, the 
houses being roofed with blue slates, and standing close to 
the river Esk, here a large river, that scattered its waters 
wide over a stony channel. The inn neat and comfortable 
—exceedingly clean : I could hardly believe we were still 
in Scotland. 

After tea walked out; crossed a bridge, and saw, at a 
little distance up the valley, Langholm House, a villa of the 
Duke of Buccleuch: it stands upon a level between the 
river and a steep hill, which is planted with wood. Walked 
a considerable way up the river, but could not go close to 
it on account of the Duke’s plantations, which are locked 
up. When they ended, the vale became less cultivated; 
the view through the vale towards the hills very pleasing, 
though bare and cold. 

Saturday , September 24 th .—Rose very early and travelled 
about nine miles to Longtown, before breakfast, along the 
banks of the Esk. About half a mile from Langholm 
crossed a bridge. At this part of the vale, which is narrow, 


A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


273 


the steeps are covered with old oaks and every variety of 
trees. Our road for some time through the wood, then 
came to a more open country, exceedingly rich and popu¬ 
lous ; the hanks of the river frequently rocky, and hung 
with wood; many gentlemen’s houses. There was the 
same rich variety while the river continued to flow through 
Scottish grounds; hut not long after we had passed through 
the last turnpike gate in Scotland and the first in England 
—but a few yards asunder—the vale widens, and its 
aspect was cold, and even dreary, though Sir James 
Graham’s plantations are very extensive. His house, a 
large building, stands in this open part of the vale. Long- 
town was before us, and ere long we saw the well-remem¬ 
bered guide-post, where the circuit of our six weeks’ travels 
had begun, and now was ended. 

We did not look along the white line of the road to 
Solway Moss without some melancholy emotion, though we 
had the fair prospect of the Cumberland mountains full in 
view, with the certainty, barring accidents, of reaching our 
own dear home the next day. Breakfasted at the 
Graham’s Arms. The weather had been very fine from 
the time of our arrival at Jedburgh, and this was a very 
pleasant day. The sun ‘ shone fair on Carlisle walls ’ 
when we first saw them from the top of the opposite hill. 
Stopped to look at the place on the sand near the bridge 
where Hatfield had been executed. Put up at the same inn 
as before, and were recognised by the woman who had 
waited on us. Everybody spoke of Hatfield as an injured 
man. After dinner went to a village six miles further, 
where we slept. 

Sunday , September 25th , 1803.—A beautiful autumnal 

s 


274 RECOLLECTIONS OF A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 


day. Breakfasted at a public-house by the road-side; 
dined at Threlkeld; arrived at home between eight and 
nine o’clock, where we found Mary in perfect health, 
Joanna Hutchinson with her, and little John asleep in the 
clothes-basket by the fire. 


SONNET 

COMPOSED BETWEEN DALSTON AND GRASMERE, 
SEPTEMBER 25th, 1803. 

Fly, some kind spirit, fly to Grasmere Yale! 

Say that we come, and come by this day’s light; 
Glad tidings !—spread them over field and height, 
But, chiefly, let one Cottage hear the tale! 

There let a mystery of joy prevail, 

The kitten frolic with unruly might, 

And Hover whine as at a second sight 
Of near-approaching good, that will not fail: 

And from that Infant’s face let joy appear; 

Yea, let our Mary’s one companion child, 

That hath her six weeks’ solitude beguiled 
With intimations manifold and dear, 

While we have wander’d over wood and wild— 
Smile on its Mother now with bolder cheer! 



APPENDIX AND NOTES. 

















. 



















































' 




APPENDIX A. 


‘ And think and fear —Page 11. 

I 

The entire Poem as given in tlie works of the Poet stands thus - 
TO THE SONS OF BURNS, 

AFTER VISITING THE GRAVE OF THEIR FATHER. 

‘The Poet’s grave is in a comer of the churchyard. We looked at it with 
melancholy and painful reflections, repeating to each other his own verses— 

“ Is there a man whose judgment clear,” etc.’ 

Extract from, the Journal of my Fellow-Traveller 

’Mid crowded obelisks and urns 
I sought the untimely grave of Burns ; 

Sons of the Bard, my heart still mourns 
With sorrow true; 

And more would grieve, but that it turns 
Trembling to you ! 

Through twilight shades of good and ill 
Ye now are panting up life’s hill, 

And more than common strength and skill 
Must ye display ; 

If ye would give the better will 
Its lawful sway. 

# 

Hath Nature strung your nerves to bear 
Intemperance with less harm, beware ! 

But if the Poet’s wit ye share, 

Like him can speed 
The social hour—of tenfold care 
There will be need ; 

For honest men delight will take 
To spare your failings for his sake, 


278 


APPENDIX. 


Will flatter you,—and fool and rake 
Your steps pursue ; 

And of your Father’s name will make 
A snare for you. 

Far from their noisy haunts retire, 

And add your voices to the quire 

That sanctify the cottage fire 
With service meet; 

There seek the genius of your Sire, 

His spirit greet; 

Or where, ’mid ‘ lonely heights and hows,’ 

He paid to Nature tuneful vows; 

Or wiped his honourable brows 
Bedewed with toil, 

While reapers strove, or busy ploughs 
Upturned the soil; 

His judgment with benignant ray 

Shall guide, his fancy cheer, your way; 

But ne’er to a seductive lay 
Let faith be given ; 

Nor deem that ‘ light which leads astray, 

Is light from Heaven.’ 

Let no mean hope your souls enslave ; 

Be independent, generous, brave ; 

Your Father such example gave, 

And such revere ; 

But be admonished by his grave, 

And think, and fear ! 

Two other Poems on the same subject may fitly be inserted in this place, 
though, as appears from the Poet’s notes, one of them at least belongs to 
a later date. 


AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS. 1803. 

SEVEN YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH. 

I shiver, Spirit fierce and bold, 

At thoughts of what I now behold : 


APPENDIX. 


279 


As vapours breathed from dungeons cold 
Strike pleasure dead, 

So sadness comes from out the mould 
Where Burns is laid. 

And have I then thy bones so near,7 

And thou forbidden to appear ? 

As if it were thyself that’s here, 

I shrink with pain ; 

And both my wishes and my fear 
Alike are vain. 

Off weight—nor press on weight!—away 

Dark thoughts !—they came, but not to stay; 

With chastened feelings would I pay 
The tribute due 

To him, and aught that hides his clay 
From mortal view. 


Fresh as the flower, whose modest worth 
He sang, his genius ‘glinted ’ forth, 

Bose like a star that touching earth, 

For so it seems, 

Doth glorify its humble birth 
With matchless beams. 

The piercing eye, the thoughtful brow, 

The struggling heart, where be they now ?— 
Full soon the Aspirant of the plough, 

The prompt, the brave, 

Slept, with the obscurest, in the low 
And silent grave. 

I mourned with thousands, but as one 
More deeply grieved, for He was gone 
Whose light I hailed when first it shone, 
And showed my youth 
How Verse may build a princely throne 
On humble truth. 


Alas ! where’er the current tends, 
Regret pursues and with it blends,— 


280 


APPENDIX. 


Huge Oriffel’s hoary top ascends 
By Skiddaw seen,— 

Neighbours we were, and loving friends 
We might have been j 

True friends though diversely inclined ; 

But heart with heart and mind with mind, 
Where the main fibres are entwined, 

Through Nature’s skill, 

May even by contraries be joined 
More closely still. 

The tear will start, and let it flow ; 

Thou ‘ poor Inhabitant below,’ 

At this dread moment—even so— 

Might we together 

Have sate and talked where go wans blow, 

Or on wild heather. 

What treasures would have then been placed 
Within my reach ; of knowledge graced 
By fancy what a rich repast! 

But why go on ?— 

Oh ! spare to sweep, thou mournful blast, 
His grave grass-grown. 

There, too, a Son, his joy and pride, 

(Not three weeks past the Stripling died,) 
Lies gathered to his Father’s side, 
Soul-moving sight! 

Yet one to which is not denied 
Some sad delight. 

For he is safe, a quiet bed 
Hath early found among the dead, 
Harboured where none can be misled, 
Wronged, or distrest; 

And surely here it may be said 
That such are blest. 

And oh for Thee, by pitying grace 
Checked oft-times in a devious race, 


APPENDIX. 


281 


May He who halloweth the place 
Where Man is laid, 

Receive thy Spirit in the embrace 
For which it prayed ! 

Sighing I turned away ; but ere 
Night fell I heard, or seemed to hear, 

Music that sorrow comes not near, 

A ritual hymn, 

Chanted in love that casts out fear 
By Seraphim. 

From the notes appended to the latest editions of Wordsworth’s works, 
it appears that the preceding poem, ‘ though felt at the time, was not 
composed till many years afterwards.’ 

THOUGHTS 

SUGGESTED THE DAY FOLLOWING, ON THE BANKS OF NITH, 

NEAR THE POET’S RESIDENCE. 

Too frail to keep the lofty vow 

That must have followed when his brow 

"Was wreathed—‘ The Vision ’ tells us how — 

With holly spray, 

He faultered, drifted to and fro, 

And passed away. 

Well might such thoughts, dear Sister, throng 
Our minds when, lingering all too long, 

Over the grave of Burns we hung 
In social grief— 

Indulged as if it were a wrong 
To seek relief. 

But, leaving each unquiet theme 
Where gentlest judgments may misdeem., 

And prompt to welcome every gleam 
Of good and fair, 

Let us beside this limpid Stream 
Breathe hopeful air. 


282 


APPENDIX. 


Enough of sorrow, wreck, and blight; 
Think rather of those moments bright 
When to the consciousness of right 
His course was true, 

When Wisdom prospered in his sight, 
And Virtue grew. 

Yes, freely let our hearts expand, 

Freely as in youth’s season bland, 

When side by side, his Book in hand, 

We wont to stray, 

Our pleasure varying at command 
Of each sweet Lay. 

How oft inspired must he have trod 
These pathways, yon far-stretching road ! 
There lurks his home ; in that Abode, 
With mirth elate, 

Or in his nobly-pensive mood, 

The Rustic sate. 

Proud thoughts that Image overawes, 
Before it humbly let us pause, 

And ask of Nature, from what cause, 

And by what rules 

She trained her Burns to win applause 
That shames the Schools. 

Through busiest street and loneliest glen 
Are felt the flashes of his pen ; 

He rules ’mid winter snows, and when 
Bees fill their hives ; 

Deep in the general heart of men 
His power survives. 

What need of fields in some far clime 
Where Heroes, Sages, Bards sublime, 
And all that fetched the flowing rhyme 
From genuine springs, 

Shall dwell together till old Time 
Folds up his wings ? 


APPENDIX. 


283 


Sweet Mercy ! to the gates of Heaven 
This Minstrel lead, his sins forgiven ; 

The rueful conflict, the heart riven 
With vain endeavour, 

And memory of Earth’s bitter leaven, 
Effaced for ever. 

But why to Him confine the prayer, 

When kindred thoughts and yearnings bear 
On the frail heart the purest share 
With all that live ?— 

The best of what we do and are, 

Just God, forgive ! 


APPENDIX B. 

'* The Waterfall, Cora Linn '— Page 36. 

The following poem belongs to the series entitled Memorials of a Tour 
in Scotland, 1814. It is in a later, not better, manner than those of 1803. 
Prefixed to it in the later editions of the Poet’s works are these words : ‘ I 
had seen this celebrated waterfall twice before. But the feelings to which 
it had given birth were not expressed till they recurred in presence of the 
object on this occasion.’ 

COMPOSED AT COKA LINN, 
in sight of Wallace’s tower. 

‘ —How Wallace fought for Scotland, left the name 
Of Wallace to be found, like a wild flower, 

All over his dear Country ; left the deeds 
Of Wallace, like a family of ghosts. 

To people the steep rocks and river banks. 

Her natural sanctuaries, with a local soul 
Of independence and stem liberty.’—MS. 


Lord of the vale ! astounding Flood; 
The dullest leaf in this thick wood 
Quakes—conscious of thy power ; 
The caves reply with hollow moan; 
And vibrates to its central stone, 
Yon time-cemented Tower! 




284 


APPENDIX. 


And yet how fair the rural scene ! 

For thou, 0 Clyde, hast ever been 
Beneficent as strong; 

Pleased in refreshing dews to steep 
The little trembling flowers that peep 
Thy shelving rocks among. 

Hence all who love their country, love 
To look on thee—delight to rove 
Where they thy voice can hear ; 

And, to the patriot-warrior’s Shade, 
Lord of the vale ! to Heroes laid 
In dust, that voice is dear ! 

Along thy banks, at dead of night, 
Sweeps visibly the Wallace Wight; 

Or stands, in warlike vest, 

Aloft, beneath the moon’s pale beam, 

A Champion worthy of the stream, 
Yon grey tower’s living crest! 

But clouds and envious darkness hide 
A Form not doubtfully descried :— 
Their transient mission o’er, 

0 say to what blind region flee 
These Shapes of awful phantasy ? 

To what untrodden shore ? 

Less than divine command they spurn ; 
But this we from the mountains learn, 
And this the valleys show ; 

That never will they deign to hold 
Communion where the heart is cold 
To human weal and woe. 

The man of abject soul in vain 
Shall walk the Marathonian plain ; 

Or thrid the shadowy gloom, 

That still invests the guardian Pass, 
Where stood, sublime, Leonidas 
Devoted to the tomb. 


APPENDIX. 


285 


Nor deem that it can aught avail 
For such to glide with oar or sail 
Beneath the piny wood, 

Where Tell once drew, by Uri’s lake, 
His vengeful shafts—prepared to slake 
Their thirst in Tyrants’ blood. 


APPENDIX C. 

1 Poured out these verses.*■ —Page 139. 

ADDRESS TO KILCHURN CASTLE. 

Child of loud-throated "War ! the mountain Stream 
Roars in thy hearing; but thy hour of rest 
Is come, and thou art silent in thy age ; 

Save when the wind sweeps by and sounds are caught 
Ambiguous, neither wholly thine nor theirs. 

Oh ! there is life that breathes not; Powers there are 
That touch each other to the quick in modes 
Which the gross world no sense hath to perceive, 

No soul to dream of. What art Thou, from care 
Cast off—abandoned by thy rugged Sire, 

Nor by soft Peace adopted; though, in place 
And in dimension, such that thou might’st seem 
But a mere footstool to yon sovereign Lord, 

Huge Cruachan, (a thing that meaner hills 
Might crush, nor know that it had suffered harm ;) 
Yet he, not loth, in favour of thy claims 
To reverence, suspends his own; submitting 
All that the God of Nature hath conferred, 

All that he holds in common with the stars, 

To the memorial majesty of Time 
Impersonated in thy calm decay ! 

Take, then, thy seat, Vicegerent unreproved ! 

Now, while a farewell gleam of evening light 
Is fondly lingering on thy shattered front, 



286 


APPENDIX. 


Do thou, in turn, be paramount; and rule 
Over the pomp and beauty of a scene 
Whose mountains, torrents, lake, and woods, unite 
To pay thee homage ; and with these are joined, 

In willing admiration and respect, 

Two Hearts, which in thy presence might be called 
Youthful as Spring.—Shade of departed Power, 

Skeleton of unfleshed humanity, 

The chronicle were welcome that should call 

Into the compass of distinct regard 

The toils and struggles of thy infant years! 

Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice ; 

Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye, 

Frozen by distance ; so, majestic Pile, 

To the perception of this Age, appear 
Thy fierce beginnings, softened and subdued 
And quieted in character—the strife, 

The pride, the fury uncontrollable, 

Lost on the aerial heights of the Crusades ! 

* The first three lines were thrown off at the moment I first caught sight 
of the ruin from a small eminence by the wayside; the rest was added 
many years after.’— Wordsworth's Life. 


APPENDIX D. 

* Loch Leven.'— Page 165. 

THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. 

A TALE TOLD BY THE FIRESIDE, AFTER RETURNING TO THE VALE 
OF GRASMERE. 

* The story was told me by George Mackreth, for many years parish-clerk of 
Grasmere. He had been an eye-witness of the occurrence. The vessel in reality 
was a washing-tub, which the little fellow had met with on the shore of the loch. ’ 

Now we are tired of boisterous joy, 

Have romped enough, my little Boy ! 

Jane hangs her head upon my breast, 

And you shall bring your stool and rest; 

This corner is your own. 



APPENDIX. 


287 


There ! take your seat, and let me see 
That you can listen quietly: 

And, as I promised, I will tell 
That strange adventure which befel 
A poor blind Highland Boy. 

A Highland Boy !—why call him so ? 
Because, my Darlings, ye must know 
That, under hills which rise like towers, 
Far higher hills than these of ours ! 

He from his birth had lived. 

He ne’er had seen one earthly sight, 
The sun, the day; the stars, the night; 
Or tree, or butterfly, or flower, 

Or fish in stream, or bird in bower, 

Or woman, man, or child. 

And yet he neither drooped nor pined. 
Nor had a melancholy mind ; 

For God took pity on the Boy, 

And was his friend ; and gave him joy 
Of which we nothing know. 

His Mother, too, no doubt, above 
Her other children him did love : 

For, was she here, or was she there, 

She thought of him with constant care, 
And more than mother’s love. 

And proud she was of heart, when clad 
In crimson stockings, tartan plaid, 

And bonnet with a feather gay, 

To Kirk he on the sabbath day 

Went hand in hand with her. 

A dog too, had he ; not for need, 

But one to play with and to feed ; 
Which would have led him, if bereft 
Of company or friends, and left 
Without a better guide. 


288 


APPENDIX. 


And then the bagpipes he could blow— 
And thus from house to house would go 
And all were pleased to hear and see, 
For none made sweeter melody 

Than did the poor blind Boy. 

Yet he had many a restless dream; 

Both when he heard the eagles scream, 
And when he heard the torrents roar, 
And heard the water beat the shore 

Near which their cottage stood. 

Beside a lake their cottage stood, 

Not small like ours, a peaceful flood ; 
But one of mighty size, and strange ; 
That, rough or smooth, is full of change, 
And stirring in its bed. 

For to this lake, by night and day, 

The great Sea-water finds its way 
Through long, long windings of the hills 
And drinks up all the pretty rills 

And rivers large and strong: 

Then hurries back the road it came— 
Returns, on errand still the same ; 

This did it when the earth was new ; 
And this for evermore will do, 

As long as earth shall last. 

And, with the coming of the tide, 

Come boats and ships that safely ride 
Between the woods and lofty rocks ; 
And to the shepherds with their flocks 
Bring tales of distant lands. 

And of those tales, whate’er they were, 
The blind Boy always had his share; 
Whether of mighty towns, or vales 
With warmer suns and softer gales, 

Or wonders of the Deep. 


APPENDIX ; 


Yet more it pleased him, more it stirred, 
When from the water-side he heard 
The shouting, and the jolly cheers ; 

The bustle of the mariners 

In stillness or in storm. 

But what do his desires avail ? 

For He must never handle sail ; 

Nor mount the mast, nor row, nor float 
In sailor’s ship, or fisher’s boat, 

Upon the rocking waves. 

His Mother often thought, and said, 

What sin would be upon her head 
If she should suffer this : ‘ My Son, 
Whate’er you do, leave this undone ; 

The danger is so great.’ 

Thus lived he by Loch-Leven’s side 
Still sounding with the sounding tide, 

And heard the billows leap and dance, 
Without a shadow of mischance, 

Till he was ten years old. 

When one day (and now mark me well, 

Ye soon shall know how this befel) 

He in a vessel of his own, 

On the swift flood is hurrying down, 

Down to the mighty Sea. 

In such a vessel never more 

May human creature leave the shore ! 

If this or that way he should stir, 

Woe to the poor blind Mariner ! 

For death will be his doom. 

But say what bears him ?—Ye have seen 
The Indian’s bow, his arrows keen, 

Rare beasts, and birds with plumage bright 
Gifts which, for wonder or delight, 

Are brought in ships from far. 

T 


290 


APPENDIX. 


Such gifts had those seafaring men 
Spread round that haven in the glen ; 
Each hut, perchance, might have its own, 
And to the Boy they all were known— 
He knew and prized them all. 

The rarest was a Turtle-shell 
Which he, poor Child, had studied well; 
A shell of ample size, and light 
As the pearly car of Amphitrite, 

That sportive dolphins drew. 

And, as a Coracle that braves 
On Vaga’s breast the fretful waves, 

This shell upon the deep would swim. 
And gaily lift its fearless brim 
Above the tossing surge. 

And this the little blind Boy knew : 

And he a story strange yet true 
Had heard, how in a shell like this 
An English Boy, 0 thought of bliss ! 

Had stoutly launched from shore ; 

Launched from the margin of a bay 
Among the Indian isles, where lay 
His father’s ship, and had sailed far— 

To join that gallant ship of war, 

In his delightful shell. 

Our Highland Boy oft visited 
The house that held this prize ; and, led 
By choice or chance, did thither come 
One day when no one was at home, 

And found the door unbarred. 

While there he sate, alone and blind, 
That story flashed upon his mind ;— 

A bold thought roused him, and he took 
The shell from out its secret nook, 

And bore it on his head. 


APPENDIX. 


He launched his vessel,—and in pride 
Of spirit, from Loch-Leven’s side, 

Stepped into it—his thoughts all free 
As the light breezes that with glee 

Sang through the adventurer’s hair. 

A while he stood upon his feet; 

He felt the motion—took his seat ; 

Still better pleased as more and more 
The tide retreated from the shore, 

And sucked, and sucked him in. 

And there he is in face of Heaven. 

How rapidly the Child is driven ! 

The fourth part of a mile, I ween, 

He thus had gone, ere he was seen 
By any human eye. 

But when he was first seen, oh me, 

What shrieking and what misery ! 

For many saw ; among the rest 
His Mother, she wbo loved him best, 

She saw her poor blind Boy. 

But for the child, the sightless Boy, 

It is the triumph of his joy ! 

The bravest traveller in balloon, 

Mounting as if to reach the moon, 

Was never half so blessed. 

And let him, let him go his way, 

Alone, and innocent, and gay ! 

For, if good Angels love to wait 
On the forlorn unfortunate. 

This Child will take no harm. 

But now the passionate lament, 

Which from the crowd on shore was sent, 
The crie3 which broke from old and young 
In Gaelic, or the English tongue, 

Are stifled—all is still. 


292 




APPENDIX. 

And quickly with a silent crew, 

A boat is ready to pursue; 

And from the shore their course they take, 
And swiftly down the running lake 
They follow the blind Boy. 

But soon they move with softer pace ; 

So have ye seen the fowler chase 
On Grasmere’s clear unruffled breast 
A youngling of the wild-duck’s nest 
With deftly-lifted oar; 

Or as the wily sailors crept 
To seize (while on the Deep it slept) 

The hapless creature which did dwell 
Erewhile within the dancing shell, 

They steal upon their prey. 

With sound the least that can be made, 
They follow, more and more afraid, 

More cautious as they draw more near ; 
But in his darkness he can hear, 

And guesses their intent. 

‘ Lei-gha—Lei-gha ’—he then cried out, 

‘ Lei-gha—Lei-gha ’—with eager shout; 
Thus did he cry, and thus did pray, 

And what he meant was, ‘ Keep away, 

And leave me to myself ! ’ 

Alas ! and when he felt their hands— 

You’ve often heard of magic wands, 

That with a motion overthrow 
A palace of the proudest show, 

Or melt it into air : 

So all his dreams—that inward light 
With which his soul had shone so bright— 
All vanished ;—’twas a heart-felt cross 
To him, a heavy, bitter loss, 

As he had ever known. 


APPENDIX . 


But hark ! a gratulating voice, 

With which the very hills rejoice : 

’Tis from the crowd, who tremblingly 
Have watched the event, and now can see 
That he is safe at last. 

And then, when he was brought to land, 
Full sure they were a happy band, 

Which, gathering round, did on the banks 
Of that great Water give God thanks, 

And welcomed the poor Child. 

And in the general joy of heart 
The blind Boy’s little dog took part; 

He leapt about, and oft did kiss 
His master’s hands in sign of bliss, 

With sound like lamentation. 

But most of all, his Mother dear, 

She who had fainted with her fear, 
Rejoiced when waking she espies 
The Child ; when she can trust her eyes, 
And touches the blind Boy. 

She led him home, and wept amain, 

When he was in the house again: 

Tears flowed in torrents from her eyes ; 
She kissed him—how could she chastise ? 
She was too happy far. 

Thus, after he had fondly braved 
The perilous Deep, the Boy was saved ; 
And, though his fancies had been wild, 
Yet he was pleased and reconciled 
To live in peace on shore. 

And in the lonely Highland dell 
Still do they keep the Turtle-shell; 

And long the story will repeat 
Of the blind Boy’s adventurous feat, 

And how he was preserved. 


294 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX E. 

‘ Mirrors upon the ceiling and against the walls' — Page 210. 
EFFUSION, 

IN THE PLEA8URE-GROUND ON THE BANKS OF THE BRAN, NEAR 
DUNKELD. 

What He—who, mid the kindred throng 
Of Heroes that inspired his song, 

Doth yet frequent the hill of storms, 

The stars dim-twinkling through their forms ! 
What! Ossian here—a painted Thrall, 

Mute fixture on a stuccoed wall; 

To serve—an unsuspected screen 
For show that must not yet be seen ; 

And, when the moment comes, to part 
And vanish by mysterious art; 

Head, harp, and body, split asunder, 

For ingress to a world of wonder; 

A gay saloon, with waters dancing 
Upon the sight wherever glancing ; 

One loud cascade in front, and lo ! 

A thousand like it, white as snow— 

Streams on the walls, and torrent-foam 
As active round the hollow dome, 

Illusive cataracts! of their terrors 
Not stripped, nor voiceless in the mirrors, 

That catch the pageant from the flood 
Thundering adown a rocky wood. 

What pains to dazzle and confound ! 

What strife of colour, shape, and sound 
In this quaint medley, that might seem 
Devised out of a sick man’s dream ! 

Strange scene, fantastic and uneasy 
As ever made a maniac dizzy, 

When disenchanted from the mood 
That loves on sullen thoughts to brood ! 


APPENDIX. 


295 


0 Nature—in thy changeful visions, 
Through all thy most abrupt transitions, 
Smooth, graceful, tender, or sublime— 
Ever averse to pantomime, 

Thee neither do they know nor us 
Thy servants, who can trifle thus ; 

Else verily the sober powers 

Of rock that frowns, and stream that roars, 

Exalted by congenial sway 

Of Spirits, and the undying Lay, 

And Names that moulder not away, 

Had wakened some redeeming thought 
More worthy of this favoured Spot; 
Recalled some feeling—to set free 
The Bard from such indignity ! 

The Effigies of a valiant Wight 
I once beheld, a Templar Knight ;* 

Not prostrate, not like those that rest 
On tombs, with palms together prest, 

But sculptured out of living stone, 

And standing upright and alone, 

Both hands with rival energy 
Employed in setting his sword free 
From its dull sheath—stern sentinel 
Intent to guard St. Robert’s cell; 

As if with memory of the affray 
Far distant, when, as legends say, 

The Monks of Fountain’s thronged to force 
From its dear home the Hermit’s corse, 
That in their keeping it might lie, 

To crown their abbey’s sanctity. 

So had they rushed into the grot 
Of sense despised, a world forgot, 

And torn him from his loved retreat, 
Where altar-stone and rock-hewn seat 


* On the banks of the River Nid, near Knaresborough. 



296 


APPENDIX. 


Still hint that quiet best is found, 

Even by the Living, under ground ; 

But a bold Knight, the selfish aim 
Defeating, put the Monks to shame, 

There where you see his Image stand 
Bare to the sky, with threatening brand 
Which lingering Nid is proud to show 
Reflected in the pool below. 

Thus, like the men of earliest days, 

Our sires set forth their grateful praise: 
Uncouth the workmanship, and rude ! 

But, nursed in mountain solitude, 

Might some aspiring artist dare 
To seize whate’er, through misty air, 

A ghost, by glimpses, may present 
Of imitable lineament, 

And give the phantom an array 
That less should scorn the abandoned clay; 
Then let him hew with patient stroke 
An Ossian out of mural rock, 

And leave the figurative Man— 

Upon thy margin, roaring Bran !— 

Fixed like the Templar of the steep, 

An everlasting watch to keep ; 

With local sanctities in trust, 

More precious than a hermit’s dust ; 

And virtues through the mass infused, 
Which old idolatry abused. 

What though the Granite would deny 
All fervour to the sightless eye ; 

And touch from rising suns in vain 
Solicit a Memnonian strain ; 

Yet, in some fit of anger sharp, 

The wind might force the deep-grooved harp 
To utter melancholy moans 
Not unconnected with the tones 
Of soul-sick flesh and weary bones ; 


APPENDIX ; 


297 


While grove and river notes would lend, 
Less deeply sad, with these to blend ! 

Vain pleasures of luxurious life, 

For ever with yourselves at strife ; 

Through town and country both deranged 
By affectations interchanged, 

And all the perishable gauds 
That heaven-deserted man applauds ; 

When will your hapless patrons learn 
To watch and ponder—to discern 
The freshness, the everlasting youth, 

Of admiration sprung from truth ; 

From beauty infinitely growing 
Upon a mind with love o’erflowing— 

To sound the depths of every Art 
That seeks its wisdom through the heart ? 

Thus (where the intrusive Pile, ill-graced 
With baubles of theatric taste, 

O’erlooks the torrent breathing showers 
On motley bands of alien flowers 
In stiff confusion set or sown, 

Till Nature cannot find her own, 

Or keep a remnant of the sod 
Which Caledonian Heroes trod) 

I mused ; and, thirsting for redress, 
Kecoiled into the wilderness. 


298 


APPENDIX . 


APPENDIX F. 

‘ Three or four times the size of Bowder Stone.’ —Page 225. 

From the Tour in Scotland , 1814:—‘ The account of the Brownie’s 
Cell and the Ruins was given me by a man we met with on the banks of 
Loch Lomond, a little above Tarbet, and in front of a huge mass of rock, 
by the side of which we were told preachings were often held in the open 
air. The place is quite a solitude, and the surrounding scenery quite 
striking.’ 

SUGGESTED BY A BEAUTIFUL RUIN UPON ONE OF THE ISLANDS OF LOCH 
LOMOND, A PLACE CHOSEN FOR THE RETREAT OF A SOLITARY INDIVIDUAL,, 
FROM WHOM THIS HABITATION ACQUIRED THE NAME OF 

THE BROWNIE’S CELL. 


L 

To barren heath, bleak moor, and quaking fen, 
Or depth of labyrinthine glen ; 

Or into trackless forest set 

With trees, whose lofty umbrage met; 

World-wearied Men withdrew of yore; 
(Penance their trust, and prayer their store ;) 
And in the wilderness were bound 
To such apartments as they found ; 

Or with a new ambition raised; 

That God might suitably be praised. 

II. 

High lodged the Warrior, like a bird of prey ; 
Or where broad waters round him lay : 

But this wild Ruin is no ghost 
Of his devices—buried, lost ! 

Within this little lonely isle 
There stood a consecrated Pile ; 

Where tapers burned, and mass was sung, 

For them whose timid Spirits clung 
To mortal succour, though the tomb 
Hadfixed, for ever fixed, their doom ! 


APPENDIX. 


299 


in. 

Upon those servants of another world, 

When madding Power her bolts had hurled, 
Their habitation shook ;—it fell, 

And perished, save one narrow cell; 

Whither at length, a Wretch retired 
Who neither grovelled nor aspired : 

He, struggling in the net of pride, 

The future scorned, the past defied ; 

Still tempering, from the unguilty forge 
Of vain conceit, an iron scourge ! 

IV. 

Proud Pemnant was he of a fearless Race, 

Who stood and flourished face to face 
With their perennial hills ;—but Crime, 
Hastening the stern decrees of Time, 

Brought low a Power, which from its home 
Burst, when repose grew wearisome ; 

And, taking impulse from the sword, 

And, mocking its own plighted word, 

Had found, in ravage widely dealt, 

Its warfare’s bourn, its travel’s belt! 

v. 

All, all were dispossessed, save him whose smile 
Shot lightning through this lonely Isle ! 

No right had he but what he made 
To this small spot, his leafy shade ; 

But the ground lay within that ring 
To which he only dared to cling ; 

Renouncing here, as worse than dead, 

The craven few who bowed the head 
Beneath the change ; who heard a claim 
How loud ! yet lived in peace with shame. 

VI. 

From year to year this shaggy Mortal went 
(So seemed it) down a strange descent : 

Till they, who saw his outward frame, 

Fixed on him an unhallowed name ; 


300 


APPENDIX . 


Him, free from all malicious taint, 

And guiding, like the Patmos Saint, 

A pen unwearied—to indite, 

In his lone Isle, the dreams of night; 

Impassioned dreams, that strove to span 
The faded glories of his Clan ! 

VII. 

Suns that through blood their western harbour sought, 
And stars that in their courses fought ; 

Towers rent, winds combating with woods, 

Lands deluged by unbridled floods ; 

And beast and bird that from the spell 
Of sleep took import terrible ;— 

These types mysterious (if the show 
Of battle and the routed foe 
Had failed) would furnish an array 
Of matter for the dawning day ! 

VIII. 

How disappeared He ?—ask the newt and toad, 
Inheritors of his abode ; 

The otter crouching undisturbed, 

In her dark cleft;—but be thou curbed, 

0 froward Fancy ! ’mid a scene 
Of aspect winning and serene ; 

For those offensive creatures shun 
The inquisition of the sun ! 

And in this region flowers delight, 

And all is lovely to the sight. 

IX. 

Spring finds not here a melancholy breast, 

When she applies her annual test 
To dead and living ; when her breath 
Quickeus, as now, the withered heath ;— 

Nor flaunting Summer—when he throws 
His soul into the briar-rose ; 

Or calls the lily from her sleep 
Prolonged beneath the bordering deep ; 


APPENDIX. 


301 


Nor Autumn, when the viewless wren 
Is warbling near the Brownie’s Den. 

x. 

Wild Relique ! beauteous as the chosen spot 
In Nysa’s isle, the embellished grot; 
Whither, by care of Libyan Jove, 

(High Servant of paternal Love) 

Young Bacchus was conveyed—to lie 
Safe from his step-dame Rhea’s eye ; 

Where bud, and bloom, and fruitage, glowed, 
Close-crowding round the infant god ; 

All colours,—and the liveliest streak 
A foil to his celestial cheek ! 


APPENDIX G. 

* The bonny Holms of Yarrow .’ —Page 254. 

In the Tour in Scotland , 1814, the Poet writes :—‘ I seldom read or 
think of this Poem without regretting that my dear sister was not of the 
party, as she would have had so much delight in recalling the time when 
travelling together in Scotland we declined going in search of this cele¬ 
brated stream.’ 


YARROW VISITED, 

September 1814. 

And is this—Yarrow ?—This the Stream 
Of which my fancy cherished, 

So faithfully, a waking dream ? 

An image that hath perished ! 

O that some Minstrel’s harp were near. 

To utter notes of gladness, 

And chase this silence from the air, 

That fills my heart with sadness ! 

Yet why ?—a silvery current flows 
With uncontrolled meanderings; 

Nor have these eyes by greener hills 
Been soothed, in all my wanderings. 



302 


APPENDIX. 


And, through her depths, St. Mary’s Lake 
Is visibly delighted; 

For not a feature of those hills 
Is in the mirror slighted. 

A blue sky bends o’er Yarrow vale, 

Save where that pearly whiteness 

Is round the rising sun diffused 
A tender hazy brightness; 

Mild dawn of promise ! that excludes 
All profitless dejection ; 

Though not unwilling here to admit 
A pensive recollection. 

Where was it that the famous Flower 
Of Yarrow Yale lay bleeding ? 

His bed perchance was yon smooth mound 
On which the herd is feeding : 

And haply from this crystal pool, 

Now peaceful as the morning, 

The Water-wraith ascended thrice— 

And gave his doleful warning. 

Delicious is the Lay that sings 
The haunts of happy Lovers, 

The path that leads them to the grove, 

The leafy grove that covers : 

And Pity sanctifies the Verse 

That paints, by strength of sorrow, 

The unconquerable strength of love ; 

Bear witness, rueful Yarrow ! 

But thou, thou didst appear so fair 
To fond imagination, 

Dost rival in the light of day 
Her delicate creation : 

Meek loveliness is round thee spread, 

A softness still and holy; 

The grace of forest charms decayed, 

And pastoral melancholy. 

. That region left, the vale unfolds 
Rich groves of lofty stature, 


APPENDIX. 


303 


With Yarrow winding through the pomp 
Of cultivated nature; 

And, rising from those lofty groves, 
Behold a Ruin hoary ! 

The shattered front of Newark’s Towers, 
Renowned in Border story. 

Fair scenes for childhood’s opening bloom, 
For sportive youth to stray in ; 

For manhood to enjoy his strength ; 

And age to wear away in ! 

Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss, 

A covert for protection 

Of tender thoughts, that nestle there— 
The brood of chaste affection. 

How sweet, on this autumnal day, 

The wild-wood fruits to gather, 

And on my True-love’s forehead plant 
A crest of blooming heather ! 

And what if I enwreathed my own ! 
’Twere no offence to reason ; 

The sober Hills thus deck their brows 
To meet the wintry season. 

I see—but not by sight alone, 

Loved Yarrow, have I won thee ; 

A ray of fancy still survives— 

Her sunshine plays upon thee ! 

Thy ever-youthful waters keep 
A course of lively pleasure ; 

And gladsome notes my lips can breathe, 
Accordant to the measure. 

The vapours linger round the Heights, 
They melt, and soon must vanish ; 

One hour is theirs, nor more is mine— 
Sad thoughts, which I would banish, 

But that I know, where’er I go, 

Thy genuine image, Yarrow ! 

Will dwell with me—to heighten joy, 
And cheer my mind in sorrow. 


304 


APPENDIX. 


It may interest many to read Wordsworth’s own comment on the two 
following poems. ‘On Tuesday morning,’ he says, ‘Sir Walter Scott 
accompanied us and most of the party to Newark Castle, on the Yarrow. 
When we alighted from the carriages he walked pretty stoutly, and had 
great pleasure in revisiting there his favourite haunts. Of that excursion 
the verses “Yarrow Revisited” are a memorial. Notwithstanding the 
romance that pervades Sir Walter’s works, and attaches to many of his 
habits, there is too much pressure of fact for these verses to harmonize, 
as much as I could wish, with the two preceding poems. On our return in 
the afternoon, we had to cross the Tweed, directly opposite Abbotsford. 
The wheels of our carriage grated upon the pebbles in the bed of the stream, 
that there flows somewhat rapidly. A rich but sad light, of rather a purple 
than a golden hue, was spread over the Eildon Hills at that moment; 
and thinking it probable that it might be the last time Sir Walter would 
cross the stream, I was not a little moved, and expressed some of my 
feelings in the sonnet beginning 

“A trouble not of clouds,” etc. 

At noon on Thursday we left Abbotsford, and on the morning of that day 
Sir Walter and I had a serious conversation, tite-d-tite, when he spoke 
with gratitude of the happy life which, upon the whole, he had led. 

‘ In this interview also it was, that, upon my expressing a hope of his 
health being benefited by the climate of the country to which he was going, 
and by the interest he would take in the classic remembrances of Italy, 
he made use of the quotation from “Yarrow Unvisited,” as recorded by me 
in the “ Musings near Aquapendente,” six years afterwards. . . . Both the 
“ Yarrow Revisited” and the “Sonnet ” were sent him before his departure 
from England.’ 


YARROW REVISITED. 

The gallant Youth, who may have gained, 

Or seeks, a ‘ winsome Marrow,’ 

Was but an Infant in the lap 
When first I looked on Yarrow ; 

Once more, by Newark’s Castle-gate 
Long left without a warder, 

I stood, looked, listened, and with Thee, 

Great Minstrel of the Border! 

Grave thoughts ruled wide on that sweet day, 
Their dignity installing 
In gentle bosoms, while sere leaves 
Were on the bough, or falling ; 


APPENDIX. 


But breezes played, and sunshine gleamed— 
The forest to embolden ; 

Reddened the fiery hues, and shot 
Transparence through the golden. 

For busy thoughts the Stream flowed on 
In foamy agitation ; 

And slept in many a crystal pool 
For quiet contemplation: 

No public and no private care 
The freeborn mind enthralling, 

We made a day of happy hours, 

Our happy days recalling. 

Brisk Youth appeared, the Morn of youth, 
With freaks of graceful folly,— 

Life’s temperate Noon, her sober Eve, 

Her Night not melancholy; 

Past, present, future, all appeared 
In harmony united, 

Like guests that meet, and some from far, 
By cordial love invited. 

And if, as Yarrow, through the woods 
And down the meadow ranging, 

Did meet us with unaltered face, 

Though we were changed and changing; 

If, then, some natural shadows spread, 

Our inward prospect over, 

The soul’s deep valley was not slow 
Its brightness to recover. 

Eternal blessings on the Muse, 

And her divine employment ! 

The blameless Muse, who trains her Sons 
For hope and calm enjoyment; 

Albeit sickness, lingering yet, 

Has o’er their pillow brooded ; 

And Care waylays their steps—a Sprite 
Not easily eluded. 


U 


306 


APPENDIX. 




For thee, 0 Scott ! compelled to change 
Green Eildon-hill and Cheviot 
For warm Vesuvio’s vine-clad slopes ; 

And leave thy Tweed and Teviot 
For mild Sorento’s breezy waves ; 

May classic Fancy, linking 
With native Fancy her fresh aid, 

Preserve thy heart from sinking ! 

0 ! while they minister to thee, 

Each vying with the other, 

May Health return to mellow Age, 

With Strength, her venturous brother ; 
And Tiber, and each brook and rill 
Renowned in song and story, 

With unimagined beauty shine, 

Nor lose one ray of glory ! 

For Thou, upon a hundred streams, 

By tales of love and sorrow, 

Of faithful love, undaunted truth, 

Hast shed the power of Yarrow ; 

And streams unknown, hills yet unseen, 
Wherever they invite Thee, 

At parent Nature’s grateful call, 

With gladness must requite Thee. 

A gracious welcome shall be thine, 

Such looks of love and honour 
As thy own Yarrow gave to me 
When first I gazed upon her; 

Beheld what I had feared to see, 
Unwilling to surrender 
Dreams treasured up from early days, 
The holy and the tender. 

And what, for this frail world, were all, 
That mortals do or suffer, 

Did no responsive harp, no pen, 
Memorial tribute offer ? 


APPENDIX. 


Yea, what were mighty Nature’s self ? 

Her features, could they win us, 

Unhelped by the poetic voice 
That hourly speaks within us ? 

Nor deem that localised Romance 
Plays false with our affections ; 
Unsanctifies our tears—made sport 
For fanciful dejections : 

Ah, no ! the visions of the past 
Sustain the heart in feeling 
Life as she is—our changeful Life, 

With friends and kindred dealing. 

Bear witness, Ye, whose thoughts that day 
In Yarrow’s groves were centred ; 

Who through the silent portal arch 
Of mouldering Newark enter’d; 

And climb the winding stair that once 
Too timidly was mounted 
By the ‘last Minstrel,’ (not the last !) 

Ere he his Tale recounted. 

Flow on for ever, Yarrow Stream ! 

Fulfil thy pensive duty, 

Well pleased that future Bards should chant 
For simple hearts thy beauty ; 

To dream-light dear while yet. unseen, 

Dear to the common sunshine, 

And dearer still, as now I feel, 

To memory’s shadowy moonshine ! 


ON THE DEPARTURE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT FROM 
ABBOTSFORD FOR NAPLES. 

A trouble, not of clouds, or weeping rain, 

Nor of the setting sun’s pathetic light 
Engendered, hangs o’er Eildon’s triple height : 

Spirits of Power, assembled there, complain 
For kindred Power departing from their sight; 

While Tweed, best pleased in chanting a blithe strain, 
Saddens his voice again, and yet again. 



308 


APPENDIX. 


Lift up your hearts, ye Mourners ! for the might 
Of the whole world’s good wishes with him goes ; 
Blessings and prayers in nobler retinue 
Than sceptered king or laurelled conqueror knows, 
Follow this wondrous Potentate. Be true, 

Ye winds of ocean, and the midland sea, 

Wafting your Charge to soft Parthenope ! 


THE TROSSACHS. 

[Compare with this Sonnet the poem composed about thirty years earlier 
on nearly the same spot of ground, ‘ What! you are stepping westward ? ’ 
(See p. 221.) This earlier poem, one of the most truly ethereal and ideal 
Wordsworth ever wrote, is filled with the overflowing spirit of life and 
hope. In every line of it we feel the exulting pulse of the 

‘ traveller through the world that lay 
Before him on his endless way.’ 

The later one is stilled down to perfect autumnal quiet. There is in it the 
chastened pensiveness of one to whom all things now 

* do take a sober colouring from an eye 
That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality.’ 

But the sadness has at the heart of it peaceful hope. This is Words¬ 
worth’s own comment:—‘As recorded in my sister’s Journal, I had first 
seen the Trossachs in her and Coleridge’s company. The sentiment that 
runs through this sonnet was natui’al to the season in which I again 
visited this beautiful spot; but this and some other sonnets that follow 
were coloured by the remembrance of my recent visit to Sir Walter Scott, 
and the melancholy errand on which he was going.’] 

There’s not a nook within this solemn Pass, 

But were an apt confessional for One 
Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone, 

That Life is but a tale of morning grass 
Withered at eve. From scenes of art which chase 
That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes 
Feed it ’mid Nature’s old felicities, 

Bocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than glass 
Untouched, unbreathed upon. Thrice happy quest, 

If from a golden perch of aspen spray 
(October’s workmanship to rival May) 

The pensive warbler of the ruddy breast 
That moral sweeteu by a heaven-taught lay, 

Lulling the year, with all its cares, to rest ! 



Note 1.—‘ Hatfield was condemned.’ —Page 2. 

James Hatfield, indicted for having, in the Lake district, under 
the assumed name of Hon. Alexander Augustus Hope, brother of 
the Earl of Hopetoun, forged certain bills of exchange. He was 
condemned to death at Carlisle on August 16, 1803. His atrocious 
treatment of a beautiful girl, known in the district as * Mary of 
Buttermere,’ had drawn more than usual attention to the criminal. 

Note 2.— 1 In Captain Wordsworth’s ship.’ — Page 3. 

The ‘ Brother John ’ here alluded to was a sailor. He was 
about two years and eight months younger than the poet, who 
found in him quite a congenial spirit. He perished, with nearly 
all his crew, in the ‘ Earl of Abergavenny,’ East-Indiaman, which 
he commanded, and which, owing to the incompetency of a pilot, 
was in his last outward voyage .wrecked on the Shambles of the 
Bill of Portland on the night of Friday, February 5, 1805. His 
brother William speaks of him in verse, as ‘ a silent poet,’ and in 
prose describes him as ‘ meek, affectionate, silently enthusiastic, 
loving all quiet things, and a poet in everything but words.’ Allusions 
to this sailor-brother occur in several of the poems, as in those 
lines beginning ‘When to the attractions of the busy world,’ to be 
found among the ‘Poems on the Naming of Places,’ also in the 
* Elegiac Stanzas suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm,’ 
and in other poems. 

Note 3. —‘ There is no stone to mark the spot .’— Page 5. 

‘ The body of Burns was not allowed to remain long in this place. 
To suit the plan of a rather showy mausoleum, his remains were 


310 


NOTES. 


removed into a more commodious spot of the same kirkyard on the 
5th July 1815. The coffin was partly dissolved away; hut the dark 
curling locks of the poet were as glossy, and seemed as fresh, as on 
the day of his death.’— Life of Burns , by Allan Cunningham. 

Note 4.—‘ They had a large library .’ —Page 19. 

The following account of this library is taken from Dr. John 
Brown’s delightful tract, The EnlerTdn. The author will excuse 
wholesale appropriation to illustrate a journal which, I believe, 
will be dear to him, and to all who feel as he does :— 

‘ The miners at Leadhills are a reading, a hard-reading people; 
and to any one looking into the catalogue of their “ Beading Society,” 
selected by the men themselves for their own uses and tastes, this 
will be manifest. We have no small gratification in holding their 
diploma of honorary membership—signed by the preses and clerk, 
and having the official seal, significant of the craft of the place— 
of this, we venture to say, one of the oldest and best village-libraries 
in the kingdom, having been founded in 1741, when the worthy 
miners of that day, headed by James Wells and clerked by William 
Wright, did, on the 23d November, “condescend upon certain articles 
and laws ”—as grave and thorough as if they were the constitution 
of a commonwealth, and as sturdily independent as if no Earl were 
their superior and master. “ It is hereby declared that no right is 
hereby given, nor shall at any time be given, to the said Earl of 
Hopetoun, or his aforesaids, or to any person or persons whatever, 
of disposing of any books or other effects whatever belonging to the 
Society, nor of taking any concern with the Society’s affairs,” etc. 
As an indication of the wild region and the distances travelled, one 
of the rules is, “ that every member not residing in Leadhills shall 
be provided with a bag sufficient to keep out the rain.” Here is 
the stiff, covenanting dignity cropping out—“ Every member shall 
(at the annual meeting) deliver what he hath to say to the preses ; 
and if two or more members attempt to speak at a time, the preses 
shall determine who shall speak first; ” and “ members guilty of 
indecency, or unruly, obstinate behaviour ” are to be punished “ by 
fine, suspension, or exclusion, according to the nature of the trans¬ 
gression.” The Westminster Divines could not have made a tighter 
job.’ 


MOTES. 


311 


Note 5. — ‘ The first view of the Clyde.' 1 — Page 31. 

This was not their first view of the Clyde. They had been 
travelling within sight of it without knowing it for full twenty miles 
before this, ever since coming down the Daer Water from Leadhills 
to Elvanfoot: they there reached the meeting-place of that water 
with a small stream that flows from Ericstane. These two united 
become the Clyde. 

/ 

Note 6.— * I wished Joanna had been there to laugh.' — Page 41. 

Joanna Hutchinson, Mrs. Wordsworth’s sister. Among the 
‘ Poems on the Naming of Places ’ is one addressed to her, in 1800, 
in which the following well-known lines occur :— 

“ As it befel, 

One summer morning we had walked abroad 
At break of day, Joanna and myself. 

—’Twas that delightful season when the broom, 
Eull-flowered, and visible on every steep, 

Along the copses runs in veins of gold. 

Our pathway led us on to Rotha’s banks, 

And when we came in front of that tall rock 
That eastward looks, I there stopped short and stood 
Tracing the lofty barrier with my eye 
From base to summit; such delight I found 
To note in shrub and tree, in stone and flower 
That intermixture of delicious hues, 

Along so vast a surface, all at once, 

In one impression, by connecting force 
Of their own beauty, imaged in the heart. 

—When I had gazed perhaps two minutes’ space, 

Joanna, looking in my eyes, beheld 

That ravishment of mine, and laughed aloud; 

The Rock, like something starting from a sleep,' 

Took up the Lady’s voice and laughed again; 

That ancient woman seated on Helm Crag 
Was ready with her cavern ; Hammarscar, 

And the tall Steep of Silverhaw, sent fortli 
A noise of laughter ; southern Loughrigg heard, 


312 


NOTES. 




And Fairfield answered with a mountain tone ; 

Helvellyn far into the clear blue sky 
Carried the Lady’s voice,—old Skiddaw blew 
His speaking-trumpet;—back out of the clouds 
Of Glaramara southward came the voice ; 

And Kirkstone tossed it from his misty head.’ 

In his comments made on his Poems late in life, Wordsworth 
said of this one:—‘ The effect of her laugh is an extravagance ; 
though the effect of the reverberation of voices in some parts of 
the mountains is very striking. There is, in the “ Excursion,” an 
allusion to the bleat of a lamb thus re-echoed, and described with¬ 
out any exaggeration, as I heard it, on the side of Stickle Tarn, 
from the precipice that stretches on to Langdale Pikes.’ 

Note 7.— ‘ With two hells hanging in the open air.’— Page 68. 

‘ When I wrote this account of the village of Luss, I fully believed 
I had a perfect recollection of the two bells, as I have described 
them ; but I am half tempted to think they have been a creation of 
my own fancy, though no image that I know I have actually seen 
is at this day more vividly impressed upon my mind.’— MS. note , 
Author , 1806. 

Note 8.—‘ Her countenance corresponded with the unkindness of 
denying us a fire in a cold night . 1 — Page 70. 

The writer, inhospitably as she had been treated, was more 
fortunate than a distinguished French traveller, who arrived at Luss 
at night, a few years earlier. The hostess made signs to him that 
he should not speak, hustled him into a stable, and said solemnly, 
‘ The Justiciary Lords do me the honour to lodge here when they 
are on this circuit. There is one of them here at present. He is 
asleep, and nobody must disturb him.’ And forthwith she drove 
him out into the rain and darkness, saying, ‘ How can I help it ? 
Make no noise, his Lordship must not be disturbed. Every one 
should pay respect to the law. God bless you. Farewell.’ And on 
they had to go fifteen miles to Tarbet.—St. Fond’s Travels , vol. i. 
p. 233. 


NOTES. 


313 


Note 9. —‘ I could not help smiling when I saw him lying by the 
roadside .’— Page 80. 

‘ The ferryman happened to mention that a fellow-countryman 
of his had lately come from America—a wild sort of genius. This 
reminded us of our friend whom we had met at Loch Lomond, and 
we found that it was the same person. He was the brother of the 
Lady of Glengyle, who had made a gentleman of him by new- 
clothing him from head to foot. “ But,” said the ferryman, “ when 
the clothes are worn out, and his sister is tired of supplying him 
with pocket-money (which will probably be very soon), he will be 
obliged to betake himself again to America.” The Lady of Glengyle 
has a house not far from the ferry-house, but she now lives mostly 
at Callander for the sake of educating her son.’— Author's MS., 1806. 

Note 10. —‘In a word , the Trossachs beggar all description .’ 
Page 100. 

The world believes, and will continue to believe, that Scott was 
the first ‘ Sassenach ’ who discovered the Trossachs, as it was his 
Poem which gave them world-wide celebrity. It would probably 
be as impossible to alter this impression, as it would be to substi¬ 
tute for Shakespeare’s Macbeth and Lady Macbeth the very differ¬ 
ent versions of the facts and characters which historical research 
has brought to light. And yet it would be interesting, to those 
who care for truth and fact, to inquire, did time allow, what first 
brought the Trossachs into notice, and who first did so. That they 
had, as I have said in the Preface, some fame before Scott’s Poem 
appeared, is clear, else a stranger like Wordsworth would never 
have gone so far out of his way to search for them. Pending a 
thorough examination of the question, it may be worth while here 
to note the following facts. Miss Wordsworth refers in the text 
to some work on the Trossachs, from which the words at the head 
of this note are taken. 

I was under the impression that the work referred to was the 
well-known ‘Sketches descriptive of Picturesque Scenery on the 
Southern Confines of Perthshire,’ by the Eev. Patrick Graham, 
minister of Aberfoyle, but it is satisfactory to find that Mr. 
Graham was not alone in his admiration of Highland scenery in 


314 


NOTES. 


those early days. A neighbour of his, the Rev. James Robertson, 
who was presented to the parish of Callander in 1768, wrote a 
description of the Trossachs in Sir John Sinclair’s Statistical 
Account, and from the fact of his using the very sentence quoted 
by Miss Wordsworth, I have no doubt he was the author of the 
little pamphlet. Miss Spence in her ‘ Caledonian Excursion,’ 1811, 
says that the Honourable Mrs. Murray told the minister of 
Callander that Scott ought to have dedicated ‘ The Lady of the 
Lake ’ to her as the discoverer of the Trossachs —‘ Pray, Madam,’ 
said the good doctor, ‘ when did you write your Tour ?’ ‘In the 
year 1794.’* ‘Then, Madam, it is no presumption in me to con¬ 
sider that I was the person who in 1790 made the Trossachs first 
known, for except to the natives and a few individuals in this 
neighbourhood, this remarkable place had never been heard of.’ 
Mr. Robertson died in 1812. There were thus at least two notices 
of the Trossachs published before Mr. Graham’s Sketches : these 
were not published till 1806. The Lady of the Lake was first 
published in 1810. 


Note 11. — •* Dutch myrtle.' — Page 101. 

This seems to be the name by which Miss Wordsworth knew 
the plant which Lowlanders generally call bog myrtle, Border men 
gale, or sweet gale, and Highlanders roid (pronounced as roitch). 
Botanists, I believe, know it as Myrica Gale, a most fragrant plant 
or shrub, growing generally in moist and mossy ground. Perhaps 
nothing more surely brings back the feeling that you are in the 
very Highlands than the first scent of this plant caught on the 
breeze. 


Note 12. — ‘ Bonnier than Loch Lomond.' — Page 116. 

As an illustration of local jealousy, I may mention that when 
Mr. Jamieson, the editor of the fifth edition of Burt’s Letters, was 
in the Highlands in 1814, four years after the publication of Scott’s 
Poem, and eleven after the Wordsworths’ visit, he met a savage* 

* If this is not a misprint, the Lady had antedated her tour by two years, as she 
made it in 1796 and published it in 1799. 


NOTES. 


315 


looking fellow ’on the top of Ben Lomond, the image of ‘ Red 
Murdoch,’ who told him that he had been a guide to the mountain 
for more than forty years, but now ‘a Walter Scott ’ had spoiled 
his trade. ‘ I wish, ’ said he, ‘ I had him in a ferry over Loch 
Lomond ; I should be after sinking the boat, if I drowned myself 
into the bargain, for ever since he wrote his “ Lady of the Lake,” 
as they call it, everybody goes to see that filthy hole, Loch Ket- 
terine. The devil confound his ladies and his lakes ! ’ 

Note 13.—‘ For poor Ann Tyson!s sake.'* —Page 145. 

The dame with whom Wordsworth lodged at Hawkshead. Of 
her he has spoken with affectionate tenderness in the ‘ Prelude : ’— 

* The thoughts of gratitude shall fall like dew 
Upon thy grave, good creature ! ’ 

Her garden, its brook, and dark pine tree, and the stone table 
under it, were all dear to his memory, and the chamber in which 
he 

‘ Had lain awake on summer nights to watch 
The moon in splendour couched among the leaves 
Of a tall ash that near our cottage stood.’ 

She lived to above fourscore; unmarried, and loving her young 
inmates as her children, and beloved by them as a mother. 

* Childless, yet by the strangers to her blood 
Honoured with little less than filial love.’ 

Wordsworth!s Life , vol. i. 39. 

Note 14.—‘ Rob Roy's grave was there.' — Page 229. 

Regarding this Wordsworth says, ‘I have since been told that 
I was misinformed as to the burial-place of Rob Roy; if so, I may 
plead in excuse that I wrote on apparent good authority, namely, 
that of a well-educated lady who lived at the head of the lake, 
within a mile or less of the point indicated as containing the re¬ 
mains of one so famous in that neighbourhood.’ 

The real burial-place of Rob Roy is the Kirkton of Balquhidder, 
at the lower end of Loch Voil. The grave is covered by a rude 
grey slab, on which a long claymore is roughly engraved. The 


316 


NOTES. 


Guide-book informs us that the arms on his tombstone are a Scotch 
pine, the badge of Clan Gregor, crossed by a sword, and supporting a 
crown, this last to denote the relationship claimed by the Gregarach 
with the royal Stuarts. When I last saw the tombstone, as far as 
I remember, I observed nothing but the outline of the long sword. 

Note 15.—‘ Thomas Wilkinson's “ Tour in Scotland .”'— Page 237. 

Probably one of Wilkinson’s poems, of which Wordsworth speaks 
occasionally in his letters. ‘The present Lord Lonsdale has a neigh¬ 
bour, a Quaker, an amiable, inoffensive man, and a little of a poet 
too, who has amused himself upon his own small estate upon the 
Emont, in twining pathways along the banks of the river, making 
little cells and bowers with inscriptions of his own writing .’—Letter 
to Sir G. Beaumont , Oct. 17, 1805. 

Wordsworth wrote the poem ‘ To a Spade of a Friend,’ composed 
‘ while we were labouring together in his pleasure-grounds,’ com¬ 
mencing— 

‘ Spade with which Wilkinson hath tilled his land, 

And shaped these pleasant walks by Emont’s side,’ 
in memory of this friend.—See Life, vol. i. pp. 55, 323, 349. 


DISTANCES FROM PLACE TO PLACE. 


Grasmere to Keswick, . 

MILES 

13 

Hesket Newmarket (road very- 
bad), .... 

15 

Carlisle (bad road) 


14 

Longtown (newly mended, 
good), . 

not 

8 

Annan (good), 


14 

Dumfries (good), . 


15 

Brownhill (pretty good), 


12 

Leadhills (tolerable), 


19 

Douglass Mill (very bad), 


12 

Lanark (baddish), . 


9 

Hamilton (tolerable), . 


15 

Glasgow (tolerable), 


11 

Dumbarton (very good), 


15 

Luss (excellent), . 


13 

Tarbet (not bad), . 


8 

Arrochar (good), . 


2 

Cairndow (middling), . 


12 

Inverary (very good), . 


10 

Dalmally (tolerable), 


16 

Taynuilt (excellent), 


13 

Portnacroish (tolerable), 


15 

Ballachulish(part most excellent),12 

King’s House (bad) 

• 

12 

Tyndrum (good), . 

• 

18 


Suie (road excellent), . 

MILES 

13 

Kill in (tolerable), 

7 

Kenmore (baddish), 

15 

Blair (bad), .... 

23 

Fascally (wretchedly bad), . 

18 

Dunkeld (bad), . 

12 

Ambletree (hilly—good), 

10 

Crieff (hilly—goodish), 

11 

Loch Erne Head (tolerable), 

20 

Callander (most excellent), 

14 

Trossachs, .... 

16 

Ferryman’s House (about 8), 
Callander to Falkirk (bad¬ 

8 

dish road), 

27 

Edinburgh (good), 

24 

Roslin (good), 

6 

Peebles (good), . 

16 

Clovenford (tolerable),. 

16 

Melrose (tolerable), 

8 

Dryburgh (good) . 

4 

Jedburgh (roughish), . 

10 

Hawick (good), . 

12 

Langholm (very good), 

24 

Longtown (good), 

12 

Carlisle, .... 

8 

Grasmere, .... 

36 







printed at tfje 3Et»nt>urgI) ©nibersttg -press 
By Thomas and Archibald Constable, Printers to Her Majesty. 




WORKS BY PRINCIPAL SHAIRP. 


Fourth Edition, Fcap. 8vo, Price 3s. 6d. 

CULTURE AND RELIGION. 

By J. C. SHAIRP, Principal of the United College of St. Salvator 
and St. Leonard, St. Andrews. 

“A wise book, and, unlike a great many other wise books, has 
that carefully-shaded thought and expression which fits Professor 
Shairp to speak for Culture no less than for Religion.”— Spectator. 

“Those who remember a former work of Principal Shairp’s, 
‘ Studies in Poetry and Philosophy,’ will feel secure that all which 
comes from his pen will bear the marks of thought, at once care¬ 
ful, liberal, and accurate. Nor will they be disappointed in the 
present work. ... We can recommend this book to our readers.” 
— Atlienceum. 

“We cannot close without earnestly recommending the book to 
thoughtful young men. They will find in it the work of a cultivated 
and learned mind, and of a pure, generous, and upright heart. It 
combines the loftiest intellectual power with a simple and childlike 
faith in Christ, and exerts an influence which must be stimulating 
and healthful.”— Freeman. 


Second Edition, Revised , Fcap. 8vo, Price 65 . 

STUDIES IN POETRY AND PHILOSOPHY. 

By J. C. SHAIRP, Principal of the United College of St. Salvator 
and St. Leonard, St. Andrews. 


Fcap. 8vo, Price 35 . 

JOHN KEBLE: 

An Essay on the Author of the Christian Year. By J. C. SHAIRP, 
Principal of the United College of St. Salvator and St. Leonard, 
St. Andrews. 


EDMONSTON & DOUGLAS, 88 PRINCES ST., EDINBURGH. 


























f 





■ 

■ 

' 


88 Princes Street, 

Edinburgh , July 1874. 


EDMONSTON & DOUGLAS’ 

LIST OF WORKS. 

\ 

v - ooo - 

The Culture and Discipline of the Mind, and other Essays. 

By JOHN ABERCROMBIE, M.D. New Edition. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. 

Wanderings of a Naturalist in India, 

The Western Himalayas, and Cashmere. By Dr. A. L. ADAMS of the 22d Regi¬ 
ment. Svo, with Illustrations, price 10s. 6d, 

“ The author need be under no apprehension of wearying his readers. . . 
He prominently combines the sportsman with the naturalist. ”—Sporting Review. 

Notes of a Naturalist in the Nile Valley and Malta. 

By ANDREW LEITH ADAMS. Author of ‘ Wanderings of a Naturalist in India.’ 
Crown 8vo, with Illustrations, price 15s. 

“ Most attractively instructive to the general reader .”—BelVs Messenger. 

The Orkneyinga Saga. 

Edited, with Notes and Introduction, by JOSEPH ANDERSON, Keeper of the 
National Museum of the Antiquaries of Scotland. 1 vol. demy 8vo. Price 10s. 6d. 

“ Will supply a desideratum in our early historical literature that has long 
been felt.”— Scotsman. 

Alexandra Feodorowna, late Empress of Russia. 

By A. TH. VON GRIMM, translated by Lajoy Wallace. 2 vols. Svo, with 
Portraits, price 21s. 

“ Contains an amount of information concerning Russian affairs and Russian 
society .”—Morning Post. 

Always in the Way. 

By the author of «The Tommiebeg Shootings.’ 12mo, price Is. 6d. 

The Malformations, Diseases, and Injuries of the Fingers 

and Toes, and their Surgical Treatment. By THOMAS ANNANDALE, F.R.C.S. 
8vo, with Illustrations, price 10s. 6d. 

Odal Rights and Feudal Wrongs. 

A Memorial for Orkney. By DAVID BALFOUR of Balfour and Trenaby. Svo, 
price 6s. 









2 


-—— -— 

EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 


Scenes of Scottish Story. 

By WILLIAM BALLINGALL, author of ‘ The Shores of Fife.’ With Illustra¬ 
tions by Waller H. Paton, R.S.A. ; Sam Bough, A.R.S.A. ; W. F. Vallance, 
and other Artists. 4to, price 10s. 6d. 

“ Mr. Ballingall’s engravings are meritorious.”— Times. 

“ We have never seen a more thorough piece of work.”— Nonconformist. 

Sermons by the late James Bannerman, D.D., Professor of 

Apologetics and Pastoral Theology, New College, Edinburgh. In 1 vol., extra 
fcap. 8vo, price 5s. 

The Life, Character, and Writings of Benjamin Bell, 

F.R.C.S.E., F.R.S.E., author of a ‘System of Surgery,’ and other Works. By 
his Grandson, BENJAMIN BELL, F.R.C.S.E. Fcap. Svo, price 3s. 6d. 

The Holy Grail. An Inquiry into the Origin and Signifi¬ 
cation of the Romances of the San Greal. By Dr. F. G. BERGMANN. Fcap. 
Svo, price Is. 6d. 

“ Contains, in a short space, a carefully-expressed account of the romances of 
chivalry, which compose what has been called the Epic cycle of the San Greal.”— 
Athenceum. 

Homer and the Iliad. 

In Three Parts. By JOHN STUART BLACKIE, Professor of Greek in the Uni¬ 
versity of Edinburgh. 4 vols. demy 8vo, price 42s. 

By the same Author. 

On Self-Culture: Intellectual, Physical, and Moral. 

A Vade-Mecum for Young Men and Students. Fifth edition. Fcap. Svo, price 
2 s. 6d. 

“ Every parent should put it into the hands of his son.”— Scotsman. 

“Students in all countries would do well to take as their vade-mecum a little 
book on self-culture by the eminent Professor of Greek in the University of Edin¬ 
burgh.”— Medical Press and Circular. 

“ An invaluable manual to be put into the hands of students and young men.” 
— Era. 

“ Written in that lucid and nervous prose of which he is a master.— Spectator. 

Pour Phases of Morals: Socrates, Aristotle, Christianity, 

and Utilitarianism. Lectures delivered before the Royal Institution, London. 
Fcap. Svo, price 6s. 

Musa Burschicosa. 

A Book of Songs for Students and University Men. Fcap. Svo, price 2s. 6d. 

War Songs of the Germans. 

Fcap. Svo, price 2s. 6d. cloth, 2s.. paper. 

Political Tracts. 

No. 1. Government. No. 2. Education. Price Is. each. 

On Greek Pronunciation. 

Demy Svo, 3s. 6d. 











88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 


3 


On Beauty. Lyrical Poems. 

Crown Svo, cloth, Ss. 6d. Crown 8vo, cloth, 7s. 6d. 

The New Picture Book. Recreative Instruction. 

Pictorial Lessons on Form, Comparison, and Number, for Children under Seven 
Years of Age. With Explanations by NICHOLAS BOHNY. Fifth Edition. 
36 oblong folio coloured Illustrations. Price 7s. 6d. 

Daily Meditations by Rev. G-. Bowen of Bombay. 

With introductory notice by Rev. W. HANNA, D.D., author of ‘The Last Day of 
our Lord’s Passion.’ Small 4to, cloth, price 5s. ; or French morocco, red edges, 
price 7s. 6d. 

“ Among such books we shall scarcely find another which exhibits the same 
freshness and vividness of idea, the same fervour of faith, the same intensity of 
devotion. ... I count it a privilege to introduce in this country a book so 
fitted to attract and to benefit."— Extract from Preface. 

“ These meditations are the production of a missionary whose mental history 
is very remarkable. . . . His conversion to a religious life is undoubtedly one 

of the most remarkable on record. They are all distinguished by a tone of true 
piety, and are wholly free from a sectarian or controversial bias.”— Morning Post. 

The Home Life of Sir David Brewster. 

By his daughter, Mrs. GORDON. 2d Edition. Crown Svo, price 6s. 

“ With his own countrymen it is sure of a welcome, and to the savants of 
Europe, and of the New World, it will have a real and special interest of its own.” 
—Pall Mall Gazette. 

Prance under Richelieu and Colbert. 

By J. H. BRIDGES, M.B. Small Svo, price 8s. 6d. 

Works by John Brown, M.D., P.R.S.E. 

John Leech, and other papers. Crown 8vo. [In the press. 

Locke and Sydenham. Extra fcap. Svo, price 7s. 6d. 

Home Subsecivse. Eighth Edition. Extra fcap. Svo, price 7s. 6d. 

Letter to the Rev. John Cairns, D.D. Second Edition, crown 8vo, sewed, 2s. 
Arthur H. Hallam ; Extracted from * Horse Subsecivse.’ Fcap. sewed, 2s. ; cloth, 
2 s. 6d. 

Rab and his Friends; Extracted from ‘Horae Subsecivse.’ Forty-ninth thou¬ 
sand. Fcap. sewed, 6d. 

Rab and his Friends. Cheap Illustrated Edition. Square ISmo ; ornamental 
wrapper. Is. 

Rab and his Friends. With Illustrations by Sir George Harvey, R.S.A., Sir J. 

Noel Paton, R.S.A., and J. B. New Edition, small quarto, cloth, price 3s. 6d. 
Marjorie Fleming : A Sketch. Fifteenth thousand. Fcap. sewed, 6d. 

Our Dogs; Extracted from ‘Horse Subsecivse.’ Nineteenth thousand. Fcap. 
sewed, 6d. . f 

« With Brains, Sir Extracted from ‘Horse Subsecivse.’ Fcap. sewed, 6d. 
Minchmoor. Fcap. sewed, 6d. 

Jeems the Doorkeeper : A Lay Sermon. Price fid. 

The Enterkin. Price 6d. 

Memoirs of John Brown, D.D. 

By the Rev. J. CAIRNS, D.D., Berwick, with Supplementary Chapter by his Son, 
John Brown, M.D. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 9s. 6d. 










4 EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 


Select Hymns for Church, and Home. 

By R. BROWN-BORTHWICK. 18mo, price 2s. 6d. 

The Biography of Samson 

Illustrated and Applied. By the Rev. JOHN BRUCE, D.D., Minister of Free St. 
Andrew’s Church, Edinburgh. Second Edition. 18mo, cloth, 2s. 

The Life of Gideon. 

By Rev. JOHN BRUCE, D.D., Free St. Andrew’s Church, Edinburgh. 1 vol. fcap. 
8 vo, price 5s. 

“ We commend this able and admirable volume to the cordial acceptance of our 
readers .”—Daily Review. 

Business. 

By a Merchant. 1 vol. fcap. 8vo, price 7s. 6d. 

“A masterpiece of gorgeous writing, and altogether he deserves the name of the 
‘ Poet-Laureate of Trade.’ ”—Dundee Advertiser. 

“ This little book, if it is not unfair to suggest such a comparison, belongs to 
the same class as ‘Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy .’”—Saturday Review. 

By the Loch and River Side. 

Forty Graphic Illustrations by a New Hand. Oblong folio, handsomely bound, 21s. 

The De Oratore of Cicero. 

Translated by F. B. CALVERT, M.A. Crown Svo, price 7s. 6d. 

My Indian Journal, 

Containing descriptions of the principal Field Sports of India, with Notes on the 
Natural History and Habits of the Wild Animals of the Country. By Colonel 
WALTER CAMPBELL, author of ‘The Old Forest Ranger.’ 8vo, with Illustra¬ 
tions, price 16s. 

Popular Tales of the West Highlands, 

Orally Collected, with a translation by J. F. CAMPBELL. 4 vols. extra fcap. 
cloth, 32s. 

Inaugural Address at Edinburgh, 

April 2, 1S66, by THOMAS CARLYLE, on being Installed as Rector of the Uni¬ 
versity there. Price Is. 

Carswell’s Gaelic Prayer Book. 

The Book of Common Prayer, commonly called John Knox’s Liturgy. Translated 
into Gaelic, a.d. 1567, by Mr. JOHN CARSWELL, Bishop of the Isles. Edited, 
with an English Translation, by THOMAS M'LAUCHLAN, LL.D., Translator of 
the Book of the Dean of Lismore. 4to, half Roxburghe. Price 30s. 

On the Constitution of Papal Conclaves. 

By W. C. CARTWRIGHT, M.P. Fcap. Svo, price 6s. 6d. 

“ A book which will, we believe, charm careful students of history, while it 
will dissipate much of the ignorance which in this country surrounds the subject.” 
— Spectator. 

Gustave Bergenroth. A Memorial Sketch. 

By W. C. CARTWRIGHT, M.P. Author of * The Constitution of Papal Con¬ 
claves.’ Crown Svo, price 7s. 6d. 

“ To those who knew this accomplished student, Mr. Cartwright’s enthusiastic 
memoir will be very welcome.”— Standard. 






88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 


5 


Life and Works of !Rev. Thomas Chalmers, D.D., LL.D. 

Memoirs of the Rev. Thomas Chalmers. By Rev. W. Hanna, D.D., LL.D. 

Cheap Edition, 2 vols., crown 8vo, cloth, 12s. 

Posthumous Works, 9 vols., 8vo— 

Daily Scripture Readings, 3 vols., £1 :11 : 6. Sabbath Scripture Readings, 2 
vols., £1 :1s. Sermons, 1 vol., 10s. 6d. Institutes of Theology, 2 vols., 
£1 : Is. Prelections on Butler’s Analogy, etc., 1 vol., 10s. 6d. 

Sabbath Scripture Readings. Cheap Edition, 2 vols., crown Svo, 10s. 

Daily Scripture Readings. Cheap Edition, 2 vols., crown Svo, 10s. 

Astronomical Discourses, Is. Commercial Discourses, Is. 

Select Works, in 12 vols., crown Svo, cloth, per vol., 6s. 

Lectures on the Romans, 2 vols. Sermons, 2 vols. Natural Theology, Lectures 
on Butler’s Analogy, etc., 1 vol. Christian Evidences, Lectures on Paley’s 
Evidences, etc., 1 vol. Institutes of Theology, 2 vols. Political Economy; 
with Cognate Essays, 1 vol. Polity of a Nation, 1 vol. Church and College 
Establishments, 1 voL Moral Philosophy, Introductory Essays, Index, etc., 
1 vol. 

Characteristics of Old Church Architecture, etc.. 

In the Mainland and Western Islands of Scotland. 4to, with Illustrations, price 25s. 


Dainty Dishes. 

Receipts collected by Lady HARRIETT ST. CLAIR. New Edition, with many 
new Receipts. Crown Svo. Price 5s. 

“ Well worth buying, especially by that class of persons who, though their 
incomes are small, enjoy out-of-the-way and recherche delicacies.”— Times. 


Journal of Henry Cockburn, being a Continuation of the 

“Memorials of his Time,” 1831-1854. By HENRY COCKBURN, one of the 
Judges of the Court of Session in Scotland. 2 vols. Svo, price 21s. 


“ It would be impossible to get too much of Henry Cockburn. ... It is to be 
dreaded we have now got all that he has left us. . . . The result is a work which, 
if specially delightful and valuable as a contribution to Scotch history, is also an 
important, though in some respects special or detached, addition to English litera¬ 
ture. ”— Scotsman. 

Archibald Constable and his Literary Correspondents: a 

Memorial. By his Son, THOMAS CONSTABLE. 3 vols. 8vo, price 36s., with 
Portrait. 

CONTENTS— 


Vol. I. The Projectors of the Edinburgh Review—Forfarshire Lairds—Thomas 
Campbell_John Leyden—Alexander Murray, Orientalist—John Murray, Albemarle 

Street—George Chalmers-Ritson-Pinkerton, &c. 

Vol II The Encyclopedia Britannica— Anna Seward and Lydia White - Dugald 
Stewart —Godwin —Niebuhr —Lords Jeffrey, Brougham, and Murray —Francis 
Horner—The Ettrick Shepherd—Maria Edgeworth, &c. 

Vol. III. Sir Walter Scott. 

“The cream of a generation of interesting men and women now gone from 
amono- us—these are the subjects of this important memoir.” - Saturday Review. 

“ These three volumes are decidedly additions to our knowledge of that great 
and brilliant epoch in the history of letters to which they refer.”— Standard. 

“ He (Mr. Constable) was a genius in the publishing world.The creator 

of the Scottish publishing trade.’’—rimes. 

“ These three volumes are of a singular and lasting interest.”—Nonconformist. 

“ The third volume (Sir Walter Scott) of this elaborate and interesting history 

almost an independent work.’— Athenaeum. 

“ We heartily commend this book to the notice of all readers. '—Guardian. 












6 


EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 


Wild Men and Wild Beasts — Adventures in Camp and 

Jungle. By Lietjt.-Colonel GORDON CUMM1NG. With Illustrations by Lieut. - 
Col. Baigrie and others. Second edition. Demy 4to, price 24s. 

Also, a Cheaper Edition, with Lithographic Illustrations. 8vo, price 12s. 

The Church of Scotland: her Position and Prospects. 

By Rev. J. E. CUMMING. Crown 8vo, price 3s. 

Notes on the Natural History of the Strait of Magellan 

and West Coast of Patagonia, made during the voyage of H.M.S. ‘Nassau’ in the 
years 1866, 1867, 1S68, and 1S69. By ROBERT O. CUNNINGHAM, M.D., F.R.S., 
Naturalist to the Expedition. With Maps and numerous Illustrations. 8vo, price 15s. 

“ There is a good deal of interesting and novel information in the present 
volume, and we can recommend it especially to those whose tastes lie in that 
direc tion. ”— Standard. 

The Annals of the University of Edinburgh. 

By ANDREW DALZEL, formerly Professor of Greek in the University of Edin¬ 
burgh ; with a Memoir of the Compiler, and Portrait after Raeburn. 2 vols. demy 
8vo, price 21s. 

Gisli the Outlaw. 

From the Icelandic. By G. W. DASENT, D.C.L. Small 4to, with Illustrations, 
price 7s. 6d. 

The Story of Burnt Njal; 

Or, Life in Iceland at the end of the Tenth Century. From the Icelandic of the 
Njals Saga. By GEORGE WEBBE DASENT, D.C.L. 2 vols. 8vo, with Map and 
Plans, price 28s. 

Plates and Notes relating to some Special Features in Struc¬ 
tures called Pyramids. By ST. JOHN VINCENT DAY, C.E., F.R.SS.A. Royal 
folio, price 28s. 

By the same Author. 

Papers on the Great Pyramid. Svo, price 4s. 

Some Evidence as to the very early Use of Iron. 8vo, sewed, 

price 2s. 6d. 

On a Remarkable Stone in the Great Pyramid. Price 3s. 

The Law of Railways applicable to Scotland, with an 

Appendix of Statutes and Forms. By FRANCIS DEAS, M.A., LL.B., Advocate. 

1 vol. Royal Svo, price 38s. 

“ Probably the best book on Railway Law to be found at this moment within 
the three kingdoms.” —C our ant. 

“ Indeed, for fulness, clearness, and explicitness of information, we could not 
name a better ; and for accuracy of thinking, for exhaustive treatment, and articu¬ 
late arrangement of all materials appropriate to its subject, and for precision ele 
gance, and flexibility of literary style, we doubt if it has many equals.”— Scotsman 










88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 7 


The Amazon. 

An Art Novel. By FRANZ DINGELSTEDT. Fcap 8vo, price 2s. 

“ It belongs to a class of novels of which Wilhelm Meister is chief—the art novel.” 
—North British Review. 

Manual of Chemical Analysis. 

By W. DITTMAR. 1 vol. fcap. Svo. [In the Press. 

Memoir of Thomas Drummond, R.E., F.R.A.S., Under-Secre¬ 
tary to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, 1835 to 1840. By JOHN F. M‘LENNAN, 
Advocate. Svo, price 15s. 

“A clear, compact, and well-written memoir of the best friend England ever 
gave to Ireland.”— Examiner. 

Political Survey. 

By MOUNTSTUART E. GRANT DUFF, Member for the Elgin District of Burghs ; 
Author of * Studies in European Politics,’ * A Glance over Europe,’ &c. &c. Svo, 
price 7s. 6d. 

By the same Author. 

Elgin Speeches. 8vo, cloth, price 8s. 6d. 

A Glance over Europe. Price is. 

Address as Hector at the University of Aberdeen. Price is. 
East India Financial Statement, 1869. Price is. 

Remarks on the Present Political Situation. Price is. 
Expedit—Laboremus. Price is. 


Veterinary Medicines; their Actions and Uses. 

By FINLAY DUN. Fourth Edition, revised and enlarged. Svo, price 12s. 

Social Life in Former Days; 

Chiefly in the Province of Moray. Illustrated by letters and family papers. By 
E. DUNBAR DUNBAR, late Captain 21st Fusiliers. 2 vols. demy Svo, price 
19s. 6d. 

The late Rev. John Duncan, LL.D., in the Pulpit and at the 

Communion Table. With a Biographical Supplement. Edited by DAVID BROWN, 
D.D., author of “ The Life of John Duncan, D.D.” Crown 8vo, price 7s. 6d. 

Deep-Sea Soundings. Colloquia Peripatetica. 

By the late JOHN DUNCAN, LL.D., Professor of Hebrew in the New College, 
Edinburgh ; being Conversations in Philosophy, Theology, and Religion. Edited 
by Rev. W. Knight, Dundee. Fourth Edition. 1 vol. fcap. Svo. Price 3s. 6d. 

“Since these lectures were published there has appeared an exceedingly 
interesting volume, entitled ‘Colloquia Peripatetica,’ by the late John Duncan,. 
LL D Professor of Hebrew in the New College, Edinburgh. These Colloquies are 
reported by the Rev. William Knight, who seems to be admirably adapted for the 
task he has undertaken. His friend must have been a man of rare originality, 
varied culture, great vigour in expressing thoughts, which were worthy to be ex¬ 
pressed and remembered.The reader who shall give himself the 






8 


EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 


benefit and gratification of studying this short volume (it will suggest more to him 
than many of ten times its size) will find that I have not been bribed to speak well 
of it by any praise which Dr. Duncan has bestowed on me. The only excuse for 
alluding to it is, that it contains the severest censure on my writings which they 
have ever incurred, though they have not been so unfortunate as to escape censure. 

.Against any ordinary criticism, even a writer who is naturally 

thin-skinned becomes by degrees tolerably hardened. One proceeding from a man 
of such learning and worth as Dr. Duncan I have thought it a duty to notice.” — 
Extract from Preface to ‘The Conscience.’ By the late Professor F. D. Maurice. 
Second Edition, 1872. 


Recollections of the late John Duncan, LL.D., Professor of 

Hebrew and Oriental Languages, New College, Edinburgh. By the Rev. A. 
MOODY STUART. Extra fcap. Svo, 3s. 6d. 

“Mr. Moody Stuart had rare opportunities of knowing Dr. Duncan.”— Man¬ 
chester Guardian. 


Memoir of the late John Duncan, LL.D., Professor of Hebrew, 

New College, Edinburgh. By the Rev. DAVID BROWN, D.D. Second edition, 
crown Svo, cloth, price 6s. 

“ Dr. Brown’s book must be read and re-read. We must therefore refer our 
thoughtful and inquiring readers to this discriminating and carefully wrought 
biography.”— Literary World. 

“This memoir of the late Dr. Duncan, by Dr. David Brown .... is the 
most valuable contribution to religious literature which has been made for some 
time.We recommend this memoir to all readers.”— Courant. 

Edmonston and Douglas’ Juvenile Library. 


Square 18mo, with Illustrations. 
Dick and I. 

Little Tales for Tiny Tots. 
Birds’ Nest Stories. 

The Charity Bazaar. 


Is. each. 

Nelly Rivers’ Great Riches. 

Stories Told in the Wood. 

New Night-Caps. 

Little Trix, or Grandmamma’s Lessons. 


*** Other volumes of this attractive series in preparation. 


A Memoir of the Right Honourable Hugh Elliot. 

By his Granddaughter, the COUNTESS of MINTO. Svo, price 12s. 

“ Lady Minto produced a valuable memoir when she printed the substance of 
the work before us for private circulation in 1862. It now, in its completed shape, 
presents a full-length and striking portrait of a remarkable member of a remark¬ 
able race.”— Quarterly Review. 

The Spiritual Order, and other Papers selected from the MSS. 

of the late THOMAS ERSKINE of Linlathen. Crown Svo, cloth, price 5s. 

“ It will for a few have a value which others will not the least understand. But 
all must recognise in it the utterance of a spirit profoundly penetrated with the 

sense of brotherhood, and with the claims of common humanity.”_ Spectator. 

“Very deserving of study.”— Times. 

By the same Author. 

The Unconditional Preeness of the Gospel. 

New Edition revised. Crown Svo. Price 3s. 6d. 

A few Copies of the original editions of Works by the same Author ar e still for Sale. 

An Essay on Faith. Fourth Edition, l2mo, 3s. 

The Brazen Serpent; or. Life Coming through Death. 

Second Edition, 12mo, 3s. 
















88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 


9 


G-ood Little Hearts. 

By AUNT FANNY. Author of the ‘Night-Cap Series.’ 4 vols., fancy covers, Is. 
each ; or cloth extra, Is. 6d. each. 

Charity Bazaar. I Nelly Rivers’ Great Riches. 

Birds’ Nest Stories. | Stories Told in the Wood. 

First Fruits and Shed Leaves. 1 vol. fcap. 8vo, price 5s. 

“ The author seems to possess many of the qualities which go to make a poet. 
He has much lyrical power. The prose essay is one of the best parts of the book.” 
— Graphic. v 

“ He (the author) touches the solemn and the tragic as he touches the tender 
and the true, with a fine vigour, in which strength and gentleness are fitly joined.” 
— Scotsman. 

L’Histoire d’Angleterre. Par M. lame fleury. ismo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 

L’Histoire de France. Par M. LAME FLEURY. New Edition, corrected to 
1873. 18mo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 

Christianity viewed in some of its Leading Aspects. 

By Rev. A. L. R. FOOTE, Author of ‘Incidents in the Life of our Saviour.’ Fcap. 
cloth, 3s. 

Kalendars of Scottish Saints, with Personal Notices of those 

of Alba, etc. By ALEXANDER PENROSE FORBES, D.C.L., Bishop of Brechin. 
1 vol. 4to. Price £3 : 3s. A few copies for sale on large paper, price £5 :15 : 6. 
“A truly valuable contribution to the archaeology of Scotland.”— Guardian. 

“ We must not forget to thank the author for the great amount of information 
he has put together, and for the labour he has bestowed on a work which can never 
be remunerative.”— Saturday Review. 

“ His laborious and very interesting work on the early Saints of Alba, Laudonia, 
and Strathclyde.”— Quarterly Review. 

The Deepening of the Spiritual Life. 

By A. P. FORBES, D.C.L., Bishop of Brechin. Fourth edition. 18mo, cloth, price 
Is. 6d.; or paper covers. Is. ; calf, red edges, 3s. 6d. 

Frost and Fire; 

Natural Engines, Tool-Marks, and Chips, with Sketches drawn at Home and Abroad 
by a Traveller. Re-issue, containing an additional Chapter. 2 vols. Svo, with 
Maps and numerous Illustrations on Wood, price 21s. 

“ A very Turner among books, in the originality and delicious freshness of its 
style, and the truth and delicacy of the descriptive portions. For some four-and- 
twenty years he has traversed half our northern hemisphere by the least frequented 
paths; and everywhere, with artistic and philosophic eye, has found something to 
describe—here in tiny trout-stream or fleecy cloud, there in lava-flow or ocean 
current, or in the works of nature’s giant sculptor—ice.”— Reader. 

The Cat’s Pilgrimage. 

By J. A. FROUDE, M.A., late Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford. With 7 full 
page Illustrations by Mrs. Blackburn (J. B.) 4to, price 6s. 

Gifts for Men. ByX. H. 

1. The Gift of Repentance. I 3. The Gift of the Holy Ghost. 

2. The Gift of the Yoke. I 4. The Promise to the Elect. 

Crown Svo, price 6s. 

“ There is hardly a living theologian who might not be proud to claim many of 
her thoughts as his own ."—Glasgow Herald. 












10 


EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 


Glimpses of Life in Victoria. 

By a Resident. Svo, with Illustrations, price 12s. 

“ Out of sight the best book about Australia that has come into our hands.”— 
British Quarterly. 

The Gospel in Isaiah: being an Exposition of the 55th and 

56th Chapters of the Book of his Prophecies. By JOHN GEMMEL, M.A., Fairlie. 
Ex. fcap. Svo, price 5s. 

Arthurian Localities: their Historical Origin, Chief Country, 

and Fingalian Relations, with a Map of Arthurian Scotland. By JOHN G. S. 
STUART GLENNIE, M.A. Svo, price 7s. 6d. 

Works by Margaret Maria Gordon (n£e Brewster). 

Workers. Fourth thousand. Fcap. 8vo, limp cloth, Is. 

Lady Elinor Mordaunt ; or, Sunbeams in the Castle. Crown Svo, cloth, 9s. 

Work ; or, Plenty to do and How to do it. Thirty-fifth thousand. Fcap. 8vo, 
cloth, 2s. 6d. 

Little Millie and her Four Places. Cheap Edition. Fifty-fifth thousand. 
Limp cloth, Is. 

Sunbeams in the Cottage ; or, What Women may do. A narrative chiefly ad¬ 
dressed to the Working Classes. Cheap Edition. Forty-fourth thousand. Limp 
cloth, Is. 

Prevention ; or, An Appeal to Economy and Common-Sense. Svo, 6d. 

The Word and the World. Twelfth edition. Price 2d. 

I 

Leaves of Healing for the Rick and Sorrowful. Fcap. 4to, cloth, 3s. 6d. 
Cheap Edition, limp cloth, 2s. 

The Motherless Boy; with an Illustration by J. Noel Paton, R.S.A. Cheap 
Edition, limp cloth, Is. 

“Alike in manner and matter calculated to attract youthful attention, and to 
attract it by the best of all means—sympathy.”— Scotsman. 

‘ Christopher North 

A Memoir of John Wilson, late Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of 
Edinburgh. Compiled from Family Papers and other sources, by his daughter, 
Mrs. GORDON. Third Thousand. 2 vols. crown Svo, price 24s., with Portrait, 
and graphic Illustrations. 

* Mystifications.* 

By Miss STIRLING GRAHAM. Fourth Edition. Edited by John Brown, M.D. 
With Portrait of * Lady Pitlyal.’ Fcap. Svo, price 3s. 6d. 

Life of Father Lacordaire. 

By DORA GREENWELL. Fcap. Svo. Price 6s. 

“ She has done a great service in bringing before the English public the career 
of a great man whose biography they might have refused to read if written by a 
Roman Catholic.”— Church Times. 

Scenes from the Life of Jesus. 

By SAMUEL GREG. Second Edition, enlarged. Ex. fcap. 8vo, price 3s. 6d. 

“ One of the few theological works which can be heartily commended to all 
classes. — Inverness Courier. 














88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 


11 


Arboriculture; or, A Practical Treatise on Raising and 

Managing Forest Trees, and on the Profitable Extension of the Woods and Forests 
of Great Britain. By JOHN GRIGOR, The Nurseries, Forres. Svo, price 10s. 6d. 

“ He is a writer whose authorship has this weighty recommendation, that he can 
support his theories by facts, and can point to lands, worth less than a shilling an 
acre when he found them, now covered with ornamental plantations, and yielding 
through them a revenue equal to that of the finest corn-land in the country. . . . 
His book has interest both for the adept and the novice, for the large proprietor 
and him that has but a nook or corner to plant out.”— Saturday Review. 

“ Mr. Grigor’s practical information on all points on which an intending planter 
is interested is particularly good. . . . We have placed it on our shelves as a 

first-class book of reference on all points relating to Arboriculture ; and we strongly 
recommend others to do the same.”— Farmer. 

An Ecclesiastical History of Scotland, 

From the Introduction of Christianity to the Present Time. By GEORGE GRUB, 
A. M. 4 vols. Svo, 42s. 

The Laws of Trade-Unions in England and Scotland. 

By WILLIAM GUTHRIE, Advocate. Svo, price 3s. 6d. 

“ Should be in the hands of every Trade Union officer in the kingdom.”— George 
Howell, Secretary of Parliamentary Committee on Trade Unions. 

Chronicle of G-udrun; 

A Story of the North Sea. From the mediaeval German. By EMMA LETHER- 
BROW. With frontispiece by Sir J. Noel Paton, R.S.A. New Edition, price 5s. 

Notes on the Early History of the Royal Scottish Academy. 

By Sir GEORGE HARVEY, Kt., P.R.S.A. Second Edition. Svo, price 3s. 6d. 

The Resurrection of the Dead. 

By WILLIAM HANNA, D.D., LL.D., author of ‘The Last Day of our Lord’s 
Passion,’ etc. 1 vol. fcap. 8vo, price 3s. 6d. 

The Wars of the Huguenots. 

By Rev. WILLIAM HANNA, D.D., LL.D. Ex fcap. 8vo, price 5s. 

The Life of our Lord. 

By the Rev. WILLIAM HANNA, D.D., LL.D. 6 vols., handsomely bound in 
cloth extra, gilt edges, price 30s. 

Separate vols., cloth, extra gilt edges, price 5s. each. 

1. The Earlier Years of our Lord. Sth Thousand. 

2. The Ministry in Galilee. Second Edition. 

3. The Close of the Ministry. 6th Thousand. 

4. The Passion Week. 5th Thousand. 

5. The Last Day of our Lord’s Passion. 47th Thousand. 

6. The Forty Days after the Resurrection. 9th Thousand. 

The Guidman of Inglismill, and The Fairy Bride. 

Legends of the North. With Glossary, etc. 4to, price 2s. 6d. 









12 


EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 


Heavenly Love and Earthly Echoes. 

By a Glasgow Merchant. 4th Edition. 18mo, price Is. 6d. 

“ Fitted to be useful and heart-stirring to all who are in earnest in religion. We 
hope and believe it will reach many more editions .”—Christian Work. 

Herminius. 

A Romance. By I. E. S. Fcap. 8vo, price 6s. 

Historians of Scotland. 

Price to Non-Subscribers, 15s. per volume. An Annual Payment of £1 will entitle 
the Subscriber to Two annual volumes. 

1st ) Fordun’s Scotichronicon. Vol. I. 

Issue, f Wyntoun’s Chronicle. Vol. I. 

2d ) Wyntoun’s Chronicle. Vol. II. 

Issue. ) Fordun’s Scotichronicon. Vol. II. 

3d ) Lives of St. Ninian and St. Kentigern. 

Issue. > Liber Pluscardensis. Vol. I. [In October. 

“ Mr. Skene has laid students of Scottish history under a further obligation by 
his careful and scholarlike edition of Fordun’s work .”—Quarterly Review. 

*** Detailed Lists of the forthcoming Volumes on application. 


If the Gospel Narratives are Mythical, what then? 

Crown Svo, price 3s. 6d. 

“ This is a striking little essay . . . thoughtful and subtle. It is an attempt to 
show that something like the jdiilosophy of the Christian Gospel would be forced 
upon us by the facts of our spiritual nature.”— Spectator. 

Lectures on Scotch Legal Antiquities. 

By COSMO INNES, F.S.A., author of ‘Scotland in the Middle Ages.’ 

Contents: —I. Introductory. II. Charters. III. Parliament. IV. The Old 
Church. V. Old Forms of Law. VI. Rural Occupations. VII. Student’s Guide 
Books. VIII. Appendix. In 1 vol. demy Svo, price 10s. 6d. 

By the same Author. 

Sketches of Early Scotch History, svo, price 16s. 

Concerning some Scotch Surnames. Small 4to, cloth antique, 5s. 
Instructive Picture-Books. 

Folio, 7s. 6d. each. 

“These Volumes are among the most instructive Picture-books we have seen, 
and we know of none better calculated to excite and gratify the appetite of the 
young for the knowledge of nature.”— Times. 

I. 

The Instructive Picture Book. A few Attractive Lessons from the Natural 
History of Animals. By ADAM WHITE, late Assistant, Zoological Department, 
British Museum. With 54 folio coloured Plates. Eighth Edition, containing many 
new Illustrations by Mrs. Blackburn, J. Stewart, Gourlay Steell, and others. 








88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 


13 


II. 

The Instructive Picture Book. Lessons from the Vegetable World. By the 
Author of * The Heir of Redclyffe,’ ‘ The Herb of the Field,’ etc. New Edition, 
with 64 Plates. 

III. 

The Instructive Picture Book. The Geographical Distribution of Animals, in a 
Series of Pictures for the use of Schools and Families. By the late Dr. Greville. 
With descriptive letterpress. New Edition, with 60 Plates. 

v IV. 

Pictures of Animal and Vegetable Life in all Lands. 48 Folio Plates. 

V. 

Recreative Instruction. Pictorial Lessons on Form, Comparison, and number, 
for Children under 7 years of age, with explanations. By Nicholas Bohny. Fifth 
edition. 26 Oblong folio Plates, price 7s. 6d. 

The History of Scottish Poetry, 

From the Middle Ages to the Close of the Seventeenth Century. By the late 
DAVID IRVING, LL.D. Edited by John Aitken Carlyle, M.D. With a Memoir 
and Glossary. Demy 8vo, 16s. 

Johnny Gibb of Gushetneuk, in the Parish of Pyketillim: 

with Glimpses of the Parish Politics about a.d. 1848. Fourth Edition, with a 
Glossary. 12mo, ornamental boards, price 2s. ; or cloth, price, 2s. 6d. 

“ It is a grand addition to our pure Scottish dialect; .... it is not merely 
a capital specimen of genuine Scottish northern dialect; but it is a capital specimen 
of pawky characteristic Scottish humour. It is full of good hard Scottish dry fun.” 
— Dean Ramsay. 

Sermons by the Rev. John Ker, D.D., Glasgow. 

Tenth Edition. Crown 8vo, price 6s. 

“ This is a very remarkable volume of sermons. We have not seen a volume 
of sermons for many a day which will so thoroughly repay both purchase and 
perusal and re-perusal. And not the least merit of these sermons is, that they are 
eminently suggestive.”— Contemporary Review. 

“ The sermons before us are indeed of no common order; among a host of com¬ 
petitors they occupy a high class—we were about to say the highest class— 
whether viewed in point of composition, or thought, or treatment.”— British and 
Foreign Evangelical Review. 

Studies for Sunday Evening; or. Readings in Holy Writ. 

By Lord KINLOCH. New edition, in 2 vols. fcap. 8vo, price 9s. 

By the same Author. 

Faith’s Jewels. 

Presented in Verse, with other devout Verses. Ex. fcap. Svo, price 5s. 

The Circle of Christian Doctrine ; 

A Handbook of Faith, framed out of a Layman’s experience. Third and Cheaper 
Edition. Fcap. 8vo, 2s. 6d. 

Time’s Treasure; 

Or, Devout Thoughts for every Day of the Year. Expressed in verse. Fourth and 
Cheaper Edition. Fcap. 8vo, price 3s. 6d. 







14 EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 


Devout Moments. Price 6d. 

Hymns to Christ. Ex. fcap. 8vo, price 3s. 6d. 

A History of Scotland, chiefly in its Ecclesiastical Aspect, 

from the Introduction of Christianity till the Fall of the Old Hierarchy. For the 
Use of Schools. By M. G. J. KINLOCH. Edited by the BISHOP of BRECHIN. 
18mo, price 2s. 6d. 

“ Miss Kinloch must have worked hard, and as in a labour of love, to accumulate 
all the ecclesiastical lore she displays.”— Scotsman. 

Lindores Abbey, and the Burgh of Newburgh: their His¬ 
tory and Annals. By ALEXANDER LAING, F.S.A. Scot. 1 vol. small 4to. 
With Illustrations. [Nearly ready. 

Scottish Rivers. 

By the late Sir THOMAS DICK LAUDER, Bart., author of the ‘Morayshire 
Floods,’ * The Wolf of Badenoch,’ etc. With Illustrations by the Author, and 
a Preface by John Brown, M.D., LL.D. 1 vol. crown 8vo. [Immediately. 

The Philosophy of Ethics: 

An Analytical Essay. By SIMON S. LAURIE, A.M. Demy 8vo, price 6s. 

Notes, Expository and Critical, on certain British Theories 

of Morals. By SIMON S. LAURIE. 8vo, price 6s. 

The Reform of the Church of Scotland 

In Worship, Government, and Doctrine. By ROBERT LEE, D.D., late Professor 
of Biblical Criticism in the University of Edinburgh, and Minister of Greyfriars. 
Part I. Worship. Second Edition, fcap. 8vo, price 3s. 

Letters from Jamaica: ‘The Land of Streams and Woods.’ 

Fcap. 8vo, price 4s. 6d. 

“ Nowhere else that we know can you get a better idea of the outward aspect of 
things in Jamaica.”— Scotsman. 

“A very entertaining and well-written book.”— Graphic. 

“Letters from Jamaica certainly do not sin on the side of * speaking an infinite 
deal of nothing.’ They contrive to convey in a little space, and in a pleasant form 
much information about a place and people of unusual interest." — Pall Mall 
Gazette. 

Life in Normandy; 

Sketches of French Fishing, Farming, Cooking, Natural History, and Politics, 
drawn from Nature. By an English Resident. Third Edition, crown 8vo, 
cloth, ex. gilt, price 4s. 6d. 

A Memoir of Lady Anna Mackenzie, 

Countess of Balcarres, and afterwards of Argyle, 1621-1706. By ALEXANDER 
LORD LINDSAY (Earl of Crawford). Fcap. Svo, price 3s. 6d. 

“ All who love the byways of history should read this life of a loyal Covenanter. ” 
— Atlas. 

Lismore, Book of the Dean of. 

Specimens of Ancient Gaelic Poetry, collected between the years 1512 and 1529 
by the Rev. JAMES M'GREGOR, Dean of Lismore—illustrative of the Language 
and Literature of the Scottish Highlands prior to the Sixteenth Century. Edited, 








88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 15 


with a Translation and Notes, by the Rev. Thomas M'Lauchlan, LL. D. The Intro¬ 
duction and additional Notes by William F. Skene, LL.D. 8vo, price 12s. 

Literary Relics of the late A. S. Logan, Advocate, Sheriff 

of Forfarshire. Extra fcap. 8vo, price 3s. 6d. 

Little Ella and the Fire-King, 

And other Fairy Tales. By M. W., with Illustrations by Henry Warren. Second 
Edition. 16mo, cloth, 3s. 6d. Cloth extra, gilt edges, 4s. 

Little Tales for Tiny Tots. 

With 6 Illustrations by Warwick Brookes. Square 18mo, price Is. 

Little Trix; or. Grandmamma’s Lessons. 

Square 18nio. Price Is. 

A Survey of Political Economy. 

By JAMES MACDONELL, M.A. Ex. fcap. 8vo, price 6s. 

“ The author has succeeded in producing a book which is almost as easy read¬ 
ing as a three-volume novel.”— Athenceum. 

“ Of its class it is one of the best we have seen ; and had we to choose for a 
beginner among the crowd of manuals and introductions to the study, there is 
much which would induce us to recommend the present volume.”— Spectator. 

“ Mr Macdonell’s book, entitled ‘A Survey of Political Economy,’ establishes 
him as a writer of authority on economical subjects.”— Mr. Newmarch. 

Ten Years North of the Orange River. 

A Story of Everyday Life and Work among the South African Tribes, from 1859 to 
1869. By JOHN MACKENZIE, of the London Missionary Society. With Map 
and Illustrations. 1 vol. crown Svo, cloth, extra gilt, price 4s. 6d. 

Nugae Canorae Medicae. 

By DOUGLAS MACLAGAN, Professor of Medical Jurisprudence in the University 
of Edinburgh. A new edition, enlarged, with Illustrations by Thomas Faed, R.A. ; 
William Douglas, R.S.A.; James Archer, R.S.A.; John Ballantyne, R.S.A., 
etc. In 1 vol. 4to, price 7s. 6d. 

Select Writings: Political, Scientific, Topographical, and 

Miscellaneous, of the late CHARLES MACLAREN, F.R.S.E., F.G.S., Editor of 
the Scotsman. Edited by Robert Cox, F.S.A. Scot., and James Nicol, F.R.S.E., 
F.G.S., Professor of Natural History in the University of Aberdeen. With a 
Memoir and Portrait. 2 vols. crown Svo, 15s. 

Memorials of the Life and Ministry of Charles Calder 

Mackintosh, D.D., of Tain and Dunoon. Edited, with a Sketch of the Religious 
History of the Northern Highlands of Scotland, by the Rev. William Taylor, 
M.A. With Portrait. Second Edition, extra fcap. Svo, price 4s. 6d. 

Macvicar’s (J. G., D.D.) 

The Philosophy oe the Beautiful ; price 6s. 6d. First Lines of Science Sim¬ 
plified ; price 5s. 

Mary Stuart and the Casket Letters. 

By J. F. N., with an Introduction by Henry Glassford Bell. Ex. fcap. 8vo, 
price 4s. 6d. 




16 EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 


Max Havalaar; 

Or, The Coffee Auctions of the Dutch Trading Company. By MULTATULI; 
translated from the original MS. by Baron Nahuys. With Maps, price 14s. 

Why the Shoe Pinches. 

A contribution to Applied Anatomy. By HERMANN MEYER, M.D., Professor 
of Anatomy in the University of Zurich. Price 6d. 

The Estuary of the Forth and adjoining Districts viewed 

Geologically. By DAVID MILNE HOME of Wedderbum. 8vo, cloth, with Map 
and Plans, price 5s. 

The Herring : 

Its Natural History and National Importance. By JOHN M. MITCHELL. With 
Six Illustrations, Svo, price 12s. 

The Insane in Private Dwellings. 

By ARTHUR MITCHELL, A.M., M.D., Commissioner in Lunacy for Scotland, 
etc. Svo, price 4s. 6d. 

Creeds and Churches. 

By the Rev. Sir HENRY WELLWOOD MONCREIFF, Bart., D.D. Demy Svo, 
price 3s. 6d. 

Ancient Pillar-Stones of Scotland: 

Their Significance and Bearing on Ethnology. By GEORGE MOORE, M.D. 8vo, 
price 6s. 6d. 

Political Sketches of the State of Europe—from 1814-1867. 

Containing Ernest Count Miinster’s Despatches to the Prince Regent from the 
Congress of Vienna and of Paris. By GEORGE HERBERT, Count Munster. 
Demy Svo, price 9s. 

Biographical Annals of the Parish of Colinton. 

By THOMAS MURRAY, LL.D. Crown Svo, price 3s. 6d. 

History Bescued, in Answer to * History Vindicated,’ being 

a recapitulation of * The Case for the Crown,’ and the Reviewers Reviewed, in re 
the Wigtown Martyrs. By MARK NAPIER. Svo, price 5s. 

Nightcaps: 

A Series of Juvenile Books. By “Aunt Fanny.” 6 vols. square 16mo, cloth. 
In case, price 12s., or separately, 2s. each volume. 

1. Baby Nightcaps. I 3. Big Nightcaps. I 5. Old Nightcaps. 

2. Little N ightcaps. I 4. New Nightcaps. I 6. Fairy Nightcaps. 

“ Six pretty little books of choice fiction. The only objection we can make to 
the quality and fashion of Aunt Fanny’s Nightcaps is, that some of their joyous 
notions are more calculated to keep infantile wearers awake all night than to 
dispose them to slumber. As nightcaps for the daytime, however, they are, one 
and all, excellent.”— Athenaeum. 

New Nightcaps. New and cheaper Edition, Fancy Cover, price Is. 








88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 


17 


ODDS AND END S — Price Each. 


Vol. I., in Cloth, price 4s. 6d., containing Nos. 1-10. 
Vol. II., Do. do. Nos. 11-19. 


1. Sketches of Highland Character. 

4. The Enterkin. 

6. Penitentiaries and Reformatories. 
8. Essays by an Old Man. 

10. The Influence of the Reformation. 
12. Rough Night’s Quarters. 

14. The Stormontfield Experiments. 
16. Spain in 1866. 

18. Correlation of Forces. 

20. A Tract on Twigs. 

22. Gold-Diggings in Sutherland. 


2. Convicts. 3. Wayside Thoughts. 
5. Wayside Thoughts—Part 2. 

7. Notes from Paris. 

9. Wayside Thoughts—Part 3. 

11. The Cattle Plague. 

13. On the Education of Children. 

15. A Tract for the Times. 

17. The Highland Shepherd. 

19. ‘ Bibliomania.’ 

21. Notes on Old Edinburgh. 

23. Post-Office Telegraphs. 


Poems. 

By DOROTHEA MARIA OGILVY, of Clova. Second Edition, crown Svo, price 
4s. paper ; 5s. cloth ; 5s. 6d. cloth gilt. 


Willie Wabster’s Wooing and Wedding. 

By DOROTHEA MARIA OGILVY, of Clova. Second Edition, with Glossary. 
12mo, price Is. 6d. 

The Orkneyinga Saga. 

Edited, with Notes and Introduction, by JOSEPH ANDERSON, Keeper of the 
National Museum of the Antiquaries of Scotland. With numerous Illustrations. 
Price 10s. 6d. 

“ No labour seems to have been spared that was required to make the Saga 
interesting and intelligible to the ordinary student of history.”— Scotsman. 

Man : Where, Whence, and Whither ? 

Being a glance at Man in his Natural-History Relations. By DAVID PAGE, 
LL.D. Fcap. Svo, price 3s. 6d. 

Kidnapping in the South Seas. 

Being a Narrative of a Three Months’ Cruise of H. M. Ship Rosario. By Captain 
GEORGE PALMER, R.N., F.R.G.S. 8vo, illustrated, 10s. 6d. 

Prance: Two Lectures. 

By M. PREVOST-PARADOL, of the French Academy. Svo, price 2s. 6d. 

“ Should be carefully studied by every one who wishes to know anything about 
contemporary French History .”—Daily Review. 


Suggestions on Academical Organisation, 

With Special Reference to Oxford. By MARK PATTISON, B.D., Rector of Lin¬ 
coln College, Oxford. Crown Svo, price 7s. 6d. 

Practical Water-Farming. 

By WM. PEARD, M.D., LL.D. 1 vol. fcap. 8vo, price 5s. 

Popular Genealogists; 

Or, The Art of Pedigree-making. Crown Svo, price 4s. 








18 


EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 


The Pyramid and the Bible: 

The rectitude of the one in accordance with the truth of the other. By a Clerg v- 
man. Ex. fcap. Svo, price 3s. 6d. 

Quixstar. 

By the Author of ‘Blindpits.’ A Novel, in 3 vols. Crown Svo, price 31s. 6d. 

“ ‘Quixstar’ is what George Eliot would call ‘a study of provincial life,’ and 
an exceedingly well-executed and well-rendered study it is.”— Literary World. 

“ Undoubtedly Quixstar is not a book to be sw'ept away with the mere novels of 
the season.”— Graphic. 

A Critical History of the Christian Doctrine of Justification 

and Reconciliation. By ALBRECHT RITSCHL, Professor Ordinarius of Theology 
in the University of Gottingen. Translated from the German, with the Author’s 
sanction, by John S. Black, M.A. Svo, cloth, price 12s. 

“An exceedingly valuable contribution to theological literature. The history 
begins no earlier than the Middle Ages ; since he considers that in earlier times, 
while the theory of a price paid to Satan was current, there was no real theology 
on the subject. A more thorough historical study of the doctrine of the Atone¬ 
ment, and a correct understanding and appreciation of the various forms it has 
assumed in different schools, are very much needed in this country.”— British and 
Foreign Evangelical Review. 

Reminiscences of the ‘ Pen * Polk. 

By one who knew them. 4to, price 2s. 6d. 

Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character. 

By E. B. RAMSAY, M. A., LL.D., F.R.S.E., Dean of Edinburgh. Library Edition, 
in demy Svo, with Portrait by James Faed, price 10s. 6d. 

*** The original Edition in 2 vols., with Introductions, price 12s., is still 
on sale. 

“ That venerable Dean, who is an absolute impersonation of the ‘ reminiscences ’ 
cf all the Scottish Churches, who in His largeness of heart embraces them all, 
and in his steadfast friendship, his generous championship of forgotten truths and 
of unpopular causes, proves himself to be in every sense the inheritor of the noble 
Scottish name which he so worthily bears.”— Dean Stanley’s Lectures on the Church 
of Scotland. 

Dean Ramsay’s Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Charac¬ 
ter. The Twenty-second Edition, containing the Author’s latest Corrections and 
Additions. With a Memorial Sketch of the Life of Dean Ramsay, by COSMO 
INNES, 1 vol. ex. fcap. Svo, price 6s. 

“This exquisite miniature biography gives to that unique volume a greatly en¬ 
hanced value and attractiveness.”— Daily Review. 

Dean Ramsay’s Reminiscences. 

S5th Thousand, fcap. 8vo, boards, price 2s. ; cloth extra, 2s. 6d. 

“ The Dean of Edinburgh has here produced a book for railway reading of the 
very first class. The persons (and they are many) who can only under such circum¬ 
stances devote ten minutes of attention to any page, without the certainty of a 
dizzy or stupid headache, in every page of this volume will find some poignant 
anecdote or trait which will last them a good half-hour for after-laughter : one of 
the pleasantest of human sensations.”— Athenceum. 

Recess Studies. 

Edited by Sir ALEXANDER GRANT, Bart., LL.D. Svo, price 12s. 










88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 19 


Rockbourne. 

A Tale. By MARION ELIZA WEIR, author of ‘ Mabel’s Experience,’ ‘ Patience 
to Work ancl Patience to Wait,’ etc. Ex. fcap. 8vo, cloth, extra gilt, 5s. 

“A tale of a very noticeable character.”— Nonconformist. 

“Admirably fitted to be placed in the hands of young people, and may be read 
with profit by their elders.”— Daily Review. 

Art Rambles in Shetland. 

By JOHN T. REID. Handsome 4to, cloth, profusely illustrated, price 25s. 

“ This record of Art Rambles may be classed among the most choice and highly- 
finished of recent publications of this sort.”— Saturday Review. 

A Tale of Ages. 

Being a Description of some of the Geological and Historical changes which have 
occurred in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh. By RALPH RICHARDSON, Hon. 
Secretary of the Edinburgh Geological Society. Demy Svo, price 6s. 

The One Church on Earth. How it is manifested, and what 

are the Terms of Communion with it. By Rev. JOHN ROBERTSON, A.M., 
Arbroath. Extra fcap. 8vo, price 3s. 6d. 

Historical Essays in connection with the Land and the 

Church, etc. By E. WILLIAM ROBERTSON, Author of * Scotland under her 
Early Kings.’ In 1 vol. Svo, price 10s. 6d. 

Scotland under her Early Kings. 

A History of the Kingdom to the close of the 13th century. By E. WILLIAM 
ROBERTSON. In 2 vois. Svo, cloth, 36s. 

“ Mr. Robertson’s labours are of that valuable kind where an intelligent and 
thorough sifting of original authorities is brought to bear upon a portion of history 
handed over hitherto, in a pre-eminent degree, to a specially mendacious set of 
Mediaeval Chroniclers, and (not so long ago) to a specially polemical and uncritical 
, class of modern Historians. He belongs to the school of Innes and Skene, and 
Joseph Robertson, and has established a fair right to be classed with the Reeves 
and Todds of Irish historical antiquarianism, and the Sharpes, and Kembles, and 
Hardys in England.”— Guardian. 

Doctor Antonio. 

A Tale. By JOHN RUFFINI. Cheap Edition, crown Svo, boards, 2s. 

Lorenzo Benoni ; 

Or, Passages in the Life of an Italian. By JOHN RUFFINI. Cheap Edition, 
crown Svo, boards, 2s. 6d. 

The Salmon ; 

Its History, Position, and Prospects. By ALEX. RUSSEL. 8vo, price 7s. 6d. 

Druidism Exhumed. Proving that the Stone Circles of 

Britain were Druidical Temples. By Rev. JAMES RUST. Fcap. Svo, price 4s. 6d. 

Natural History and Sport in Moray. 

Collected from the Journals and Letters of the late CHARLES St. JOHN, Author 
of ‘ Wild Sports of the Highlands.’ With a short Memoir of the Author. Crown 
Svo, price Ss. 6d. 

A Handbook of the History of Philosophy. 

By Dr. ALBERT SCHWEGLER. Fourth Edition. Translated and Annotated by 
J. Hutchison Stirling, LL.D., Author of the ‘Secret of Hegel.’ Crown Svo, price 6s. 

“ Schwegler’s is the best possible handbook of the history of philosophy, and 
there could not possibly be a better translator of it than Dr. Stirling.” II estmmster 
Review. 





20 EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 


“The Germans are fortunate, in consequence of their philosophical criticism, in 
the production of better and better text-books, among which may be mentioned 
Schwegler’s History of Philosophy. ”—Professor Rosenkranz of Konigsberg in Journal of 
Speculative Philosophy. 

Seven Years of a Life. 

A Story. 1 vol. crown 8vo. [Hi October. 

The Scottish Poor-Laws: Examination of their Policy, 

History, and Practical Action. By SCOTUS. Svo, price 7s. 6d. 

“ This book is a magazine of interesting facts and acute observations upon this 
vitally important subject.”— Scotsman. 

Gossip about Letters and Letter-Writers. 

By GEORGE SETON, Advocate, M.A. Oxon., F.S.A. Scot. Fcap. Svo, price 2s. 6d. 

“ A very agreeable little brochure, which anybody may dip into with satisfaction 
to while away idle hours.”— Echo. 

4 Cakes, Leeks, Puddings, and Potatoes.’ 

A Lecture on the Nationalities of the United Kingdom. By GEORGE SETON, 
Advocate, M.A. Oxon., etc. Second Edition. Fcap. Svo, sewed, price 6d. 

i 

Culture and Religion. 

By J. C. SHAIRP, Principal of the United College of St. Salvator and St. 
Leonard, St. Andrews. Fourth Edition, fcap. Svo, price 3s. 6d. 

“ A wise book, and, unlike a great many other wise books, has that carefully- 
shaded thought and expression which fits Professor Shairp to speak for Culture no 
less than for Religion. ”— Spectator. 

John Keble: 

An Essay on the Author of the ‘ Christian Tear.’ By J. C. SHAIRP, Principal of 
the United College of St. Salvator and St. Leonard, St. Andrews. Fcap. Svo, price 3s. 

Studies in Poetry and Philosophy. 

By J. C. SHAIRP, Principal of the United College of St. Salvator and St. 
Leonard, St. Andrews. Second Edition, 1 vol. fcap. Svo, price 6s. 

The Shores of Fife; or the Forth and Tay. 

Comprising Inland Scenery in Fife, Perth, Clackmannan, Kinross, and Stirling : 
with frontispiece—“ Queen Margaret expounding the Scriptures to Malcolm Can- 
more,” presented by Sir Noel Paton, Knight, R.S.A., Her Majesty’s Limner for 
Scotland; and original drawings, by Waller H. Paton, R.S.A., Samuel Bough, 
A.R.S.A., John Lawson, W. F. Vallance, E. T. Crawford, R.S. A., Clark Stanton, 
A.R.S.A., J. H. Oswald, John T. Reid, and other Artists. Engraved by William 
Ballingall. 4to, Cloth, price 30s. 

“We commend it not only as a present any one might be well pleased to re¬ 
ceive, but also as a book worth buying and keeping.”— Times. 

“ Rarely has there been placed before us a more beautiful book than this ; so far 
as the engravings are concerned—and they number nearly a hundred—they are en¬ 
tirely the work of one artist, Mr. W. Ballingall.— Art Journal. 

“ Mr. Ballingall has revived the reputation Edinburgh once enjoyed for excellence 
in wood engraving. The work will be highly appreciated by all lovers of Art.”— 
Daily Review. 




21 


88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 


A Memoir of the late Sir James Y. Simpson, Bart. M.D. 

By JOHN DUNS, D.D., Professor of Natural Science, New College, Edinburgh. 
Demy svo. With Portrait. Price 14s. 

“ One of the most charming, instructive, and useful biographies extant.”— 
Courant. 

“Will be much read and admired.”— Edinburgh Medical Journal. 

Archaeological Essays by the late Sir James Y. Simpson, 

Bart., M.D., D.C.L. Edited by JOHN STUART, LL.D., Secretary of the Society 
of Antiquaries of Scotland, Author of ‘ The Sculptured Stones of Scotland, etc. 
etc. 2 vols. sm. 4to, half Roxburghe, pric% £2 : 2s. 

The Pour Ancient Books of Wales, 

Containing the Cymric Poems attributed to the Bards of the Sixth Century. By 
WILLIAM F. SKENE. With Maps and Facsimiles. 2 vols. Svo, price 36s. 

“ Mr. Skene’s book will, as a matter of course and necessity, find its place on 
the tables of all Celtic antiquarians and scholars.”— Archceologia Cambrensis. 

The Coronation Stone. 

By WILLIAM F. SKENE. Small 4to. With Illustrations in Photography an 
Zincography. Price 6s. 

Fordun’s Chronicle of the Scottish Nation. 

With English Translation. Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by WILLIAM 
F. SKENE. 2 vols. 8vo, price 30s. 

“ Mr. Skene has laid students of Scottish history under a further obligation by 
his careful and scholarlike edition of Fordun’s work.”— Quarterly Review, July 1S73. 

Sketches of Highland Character. '(“But the queys was goot.”) 

With Seven Full-Page Illustrations by W. RALSTON. Engraved by William 
Ballingall and J. D. Cooper. 1 vol. 4to, price 6s. 

“ The engravings are excellent.”— Standard. 

“ Mr. W. Ralston has here the proper subject, and is simply delicious both in 
drawing and character, and we certainly say with him and the author ‘ The Queys 
is Goot.’”— Nonconformist. 

“ Nothing can be happier or truer to nature than the artist’s representations. 
The whole story is indeed excellent, and thus illustrated forms a bit of real life 
and nationality preserved for all time.”— Inverness Courier. 

The Sermon on the Mount. 

By the Rev. WALTER C. SMITH, Author of * The Bishop’s Walk, and other 
Poems, by Orwell,’ and ‘Hymns.of Christ and Christian Life.’ Crown Svo, 
price 6s. 

Disinfectants and Disinfection. 

By Dr. ROBERT ANGUS SMITH. Svo, price 5s. • 

“ By common consent Dr. Angus Smith has become the first authority in Europe 
on the subject of Disinfectants.— Chemical News. 

Life and Work at the Great Pyramid. 

With a Discussion of the Facts Ascertained. By C. PIAZZI SMYTH, F.R.SS.L. 
and E., Astronomer-Royal for Scotland. 3 vols. demy Svo, price 56s. 

An Equal-Surface Projection for Maps of the World, and 

its Application to certain Anthropological Questions. By C. PIAZZI SMYTH, 
F.R.SS.L. & E., Astronomer-Royal for Scotland. Svo, price 3s. 








22 


EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS, 


Britain’s Art Paradise ; or. Notes on some Pictures in the 

Royal Academy, 1871. By the EARL of SOUTHESK. 8vo, sewed, price Is. 

Saskatchewan and the Rocky Mountains. 

Diary and Narrative of Travel, Sport, and Adventure, during a Journey through 
part of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s Territories, in 1859 and 1860. By the EARL 
of SOUTHESK, K.T., F.R.G.S. 1 vol. demy Svo, with illustrations. [In the Press. 

Sir Walter Scott as a Poet. 

By GILBERT MALCOLM SPROAT. 8vo, cloth, price 2s. 6d. 

Ruined Castles, Monuments of Former Men, in the Vicinity 

of Banff. By JAMES SPENCE. Crown Svo, price 5s. ' 

“ In gleaning out and collecting into a book all that has survived and is at the 
same time worth preserving in their history, accompanied by succinct and 
pleasantly-written descriptions and pen-and-ink sketches of their present condi¬ 
tion, Mr. Spence has done some service to his county.”— Scotsman. 

Scottish Liturgies of the Reign of James VI., from MSS. in 

the British Museum and Advocates’ Library. Edited, with an Introduction and 
Notes, by the Rev. GEO. W. SPROTT, B.A. Extra fcap. Svo, cloth, price 4s. 6d. 

“The title of this book will be enough to make many pass it by as of mere 
denominational interest. It is, on the contrary, one of national importance, and 
ought to be carefully studied by all who, through any line of descent, connect 
themselves with early Scotch Protestantism.”— Courant. 


Memoir of Sir James Dalrymple, First Viscount Stair, 

President of the Court of Session in Scotland, and Author of ‘ The'Institutions of 
the Law of Scotland.’ ' A Study in the History of Scotland and Scotch Law during 
the Seventeenth Century. By M. J. G. MACKAY, Advocate. 8vo, price 12s. 


History Vindicated in the Case of the Wigtown Martyrs. 

By the Rev. ARCHIBALD STEWART. Second Edition. 8vo, price 3s. 6d. 

Dugald Stewart’s Collected Works. 

Edited by Sir William Hamilton, Bart. Vols. I. to X. Svo, cloth, each 12s. 

Vol. I.—Dissertation. Vols. II. III. and IV.—Elements of the Philosophy 
of the Human Mind. Vol. V.—Philosophical Essays. Vols. VI. and VII.— 
Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers of Man. Vols. VIII. and IX.— 
Lectures on Political Economy. Vol. X.—Biographical Memoirs of Adam 
Smith, LL.D., William Robertson, D.D., and Thomas Reid, D.D. ; to which 
is prefixed a Memoir of Dugald Stewart, with Selections from his Corre¬ 
spondence, by John Veitch, M. A. Supplementary Vol.—Translations of the 
Passages in Foreign Langu^ge^ou^jined in the Collected Works; with 
General Inde 


The Procession 


% D 

IrtOf P 


Langiu^ei^ouj^n 


ope Clement VII. and the Emperor 


Charles V., after the Emperor’s Coronation at Bologna, on the 24th February 1530, 
designed and engraved by NICOLAS HOGENBERG, and now reproduced in fac¬ 
simile. With an Historical Introduction by Sir WILLIAM STIRLING-MAX WELL, 
Bart., M.P. In one vol. large folio. [In preparation. 






88 PRINCES STREET, EDINBURGH. 23 


Jerrold, Tennyson, Macaulay, and other Critical Essays. 

By JAMES HUTCHISON STIRLING, LL.D., Author of ‘The Secret of Hegel.’ 
1 vol. fcap. 8vo, price 5s. 

“ Dr. Stirling’s opinions are entitled to be heard, and carry great weight with 
them. He is a lucid and agreeable writer, a profound metaphysician, and by his 
able translations from the German has proved his grasp of mind and wide acquaint¬ 
ance with philosophical speculation.”— Examiner. 

Songs of the Seasons. 

By THOMAS TOD STODDART, Author of ‘ The Angler’s Companion.’ Crown 
8vo, price 6s. 

Christ the Consoler; 

Or, Scriptures, Hymns, and Prayers, for Times of Trouble and Sorrow. Selected and 
arranged by the Rev. ROBERT HERBERT STORY, Minister of Roseneath. Fcap. 
8vo, price 3s. 6d. 

Outlines of Scottish Archaeology. 

By Rev. G. SUTHERLAND. 12mo, sewed, profusely Illustrated, price Is. 

Memoir of James Syme, late Professor of Clinical Surgery in 

the University of Edinburgh. By ROBERT PATERSON, M.D., President of the 
College of Physicians, Edinburgh. With Portrait. 1 vol. crown 8vo, price 7s. 6d. 

Works by the late Professor Syme. 

Observations in Clinical Surgery. Second Edition. Svo, price Ss. 6d. 
Stricture of the Urethra, and Fistula in Perineo. Svo, 4s. 6d. 

Treatise on the Excision of Diseased Joints. Svo, 5s. 

On Diseases of the Rectum. Svo, 4s. 6d. 

Excision of the Scapula. Svo, price 2s. 6d. 

The History of English Literature. 

THE STANDARD EDITION. By H. TAINE, D.C.L. Translated by Henry van 
Laun. New and carefully Revised Edition. In 4 vols. small demy Svo, price 
7s. 6d. each; also kept in half-calf, half-morocco, and full tree-calf bindings, suit¬ 
able for Presentation and School Prizes. 

“ The most interesting and the most philosophical history that has been written 
of English literature.”— Globe. 

“Will take its place in the very foremost rank of works on the literature of 
England. ”— Spectator. 

“Deserves a conspicuous place in every library filled with the immortal works 
of which it narrates the history.”— Daily News. 

“ An excellent text-book for the use of students ; very much superior to any of 
those now in use at our schools and colleges.”— Examiner. 

Thermodynamics. 

By P. G. TAIT, Professor of Natural Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. 
New and enlarged edition. [In preparation. 

Day-Dreams of a Schoolmaster. 

By D’ARCY W. THOMPSON. Second Edition. Fcap. Svo, price 5s. 

/ 

Sales Attici: 

Or, The Maxims, Witty and Wise, of Athenian Tragic Drama. By D’ARCY WENT¬ 
WORTH THOMPSON, Professor of Greek in Queen’s College, Galway. Fcap. Svo, 
price 9s. 




24 


EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS. 


Two Little Rabbits, or the Sad Story of Whitetail. 

By G. A. DALRYMPLE. With 8 Illustrations. Square 18mo, price Is. 

Hand-Book of the Education (Scotland) Act, 1872. 

Containing—I. A digest of the Act, with subjects grouped for the convenience of 
School Boards. II. Copy of the Act, with Explanatory Notes. III. The Incor¬ 
porated Acts, Industrial Schools’Act, etc., and Index. By JAMES TOD, Advo¬ 
cate. Fifth Edition. Crown Svo, price 5s. 

“A valuable and trustworthy guide.”— Courant. 

“ The most thorough and most useful companion to the Act.”— Daily Review. 
Travels by Umbra. Svo, price ios. 6d. 

Hotch-Pot. 

By UMBRA. An Old Dish with New Materials. Fcap. 8vo, price 3s. 6d. 

The Merchant’s Sermon and other Stories. 

By L. B. WALFORD. lSmo, price Is. 6d. 

“A volume of very modest appearance which deserves more than the bi’ief 
notice for which we can find space. The four tales it contains are all pleasant and 
spirited little stories. The last of these, ‘ Polly Spanker’s Green Feather,’ is 
really admirable. ”— Spectator. 

What can She do? 

A Novel. By Rev. E. P. ROE. 1 vol. crown Svo, price 10s. 6d. 

“ Claims special attention from all who are interested in the higher education 
of women.”—Leeds Mercury. 

A History of the Battle of Bannockburn, fought A.D. 1314. 

With Map and Armorial Bearings, and Notices of the principal Warriors who 
engaged in that Conflict. By ROBERT WHITE, Author of 4 A History of the 
Battle of Otterburn.’ 1 vol. 8vo, price 12s. 

Dante’s—The Inferno. 

Translated line for line by W. P. WILKIE, Advocate. Fcap. Svo, price 5s. 

Researches on Colour-Blindness. 

With a Supplement on the danger attending the present system of Railway and 
Marine Coloured Signals. By the late GEORGE WILSON, M.D. Svo, 5s. 

Wordsworth’s Tour in Scotland in 1803, in company with 

his Sister and S. T. Coleridge; being the Journal of Miss WORDSWORTH, 
now for the first time made public. Edited by Principal Shairp, LL.D. 1 vol. 
crown Svo. 

“ If there were no other record of her than those brief extracts from her Journal 
during the Highland Tour, which stand at the head of several of her brother’s 
poems, these alone would prove her possessed of a large portion of his genius. 
Larger extracts from them occur in the poet’s biography and in the edition of the 
Poems of 1857, and often they seem nearly as good as the poems they introduce. 
Might not that wonderful Journal even* yet be given entire, or nearly so, to the 
world ?”—North British Review. 

An Historical Sketch of the French Bar, from its Origin to 

the Present Day. By ARCHIBALD YOUNG, Advocate. Demy Svo, price 7s. 6d. 

“ A useful contribution to our knowledge of the leading French politicians of 
the present day .’’—Saturday Review. 

Notes on the Scotch Salmon Fishery Acts of 1862 and 1868. 

With Suggestions for their Improvement. By ARCHIBALD YOUNG, Advocate, 
Commissioner of Scotch Salmon Fisheries, &c. &c. Svo, price Is. 6d. 






































% 






























A' °4, *°*° A° 



* l* % 

<. : .. * s ^ 

C ° w c * .0' 

^ «*& o /XN^M'Tfc" *0, J< 


I *1 


> Vv 

,♦ -V <v '- 

y °*. - 



^ 0 


o N o 



ip -tv a o* 

« ' rv ^ /;h O 

• y v *•-•’• y 

,0 .«*«-'>• V 




> M 0 

a> f »*«, 

»V vv ° 

V *V ^llllr; J> % ° 0 

<*. A &V . ’*+ 





















- * • ^ ^ ^ V •-£?.* X* * 

„ ./ .-;ffir. \ 4 / ./ •• 

‘of ^ 



, A V , o « C 



<3* <A 
o V 



jP*'^ 

O .* *0 J *■ *■ 

S ' 4 V C ^ 2 * * O N o 0 0 <$>• *»,-,• 

_. ,* > s •**. »w‘ ^ ^ \*SeK‘ J> \, 

<(r v3 'o.a* A . *7^74 /*A <* 

_A ^ . V V * * A u 

C° s'J/rnZ,* °^ A .^% ^ 

W * 0 $ •v^HkV* 



< o. 

l/ vA 



>a <x 

o V 



4 

ZA *<v 



^0 

°o f 0° \. * *^-'' V ^ °o - . . • - 

MIa°* U*+ :£&\ \,/ 







^ V __ 

.* .❖ V *V \W^: J>%. 

° • * - A <, *'r. * * <6^ o * 0 . 1 * V A 

< V o 0 “ ® * <*> Q * .*■ 1 6 * ^ 0 <A'' 0 0 " O ^ 

<<r <*^SsSK* . c 0 ^r * 

«- •* °a^». -^. 0 < -v- a 



4 O. 

-> > tn 





■%. c- 

••.. % "’ v^^,\ ... 

-'Jill' ^ $• 

.VA - 

r * X V 
4 A ^ 

• * * ° A 

<^ o 0 w 0 4 

'° ^ <- ♦* 




4 O. 

> V<v V> 



\0 v\ 

VV <#>* 

o * 0 Az, t-~ r ^CV^^ .aj* o y 

4 '^°° A 0 ^ *W* 4^ °^ 4r °"° 

xA »• A 6L ^ <i. ^>v aA 

DOBBS BROS. ^ »MA , 0 'S® * ^ C^ 

library binoino * s &$^//) l . ~ '< t ' t \ 0 b - l f l^» r ' J ' *~> 



r."S t.jujgustine ’<. *^ 4 ' <G^ ^ ' y “*»' 4 A 

. L '*4 ^O C° W °4 

„ ^ c ♦v^T^r 0 * 

32084 w ^ 0 ^ ^ xA 

r,/)»^yw ffiS©' « X Y-. 


bi 




o V L 

A 




